


The Storybrooke Habitats

by konako



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Comfort/Angst, F/F, Maybe actual violence, Mentions of Violence, Slow Burn, like the slowest burn to ever burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2018-10-22 09:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 62,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10694376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/konako/pseuds/konako
Summary: "We all have wished those wishes, right? For something we can’t have. For something we shouldn’t have"Belle French is a journalist assigned to write about the famous park of fantastic creatures, The Storybrooke Habitats. She meets witches, giants, dragons, mermaids, fairies... and a lonely werewolf.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is my first major fic in English - any weird phrasing and terms, have patience. Portuguese is a different language.  
> Also, this scenario might sound familiar, and I curse this magical fandom hive mind for that. StefiDelly is currently writing Subject 204, with a similar idea, and I recommend you read it! Each fic has its charms.  
> Lastly, I must warn you I'm obsessed with developing characters and exploring their many relationships, so stay strong through all this.  
> There, I'm done. Go read it. Hope you like it! Comments are always appreciated.

The crickets chirped as the tires rolled smoothly down the pebble road, in a calming white noise to Belle’s thoughts. The yellow glow of her headlights illuminated the path and the tall trees that lined the deserted road. Turn after turn, she drove to Storybrooke.

The podcast she had been listening two had ended miles ago, and she was content to just enjoy the relaxing silence of the nocturnal life around her. The sound of owls and crickets filling her surroundings transported her to another land. She felt like her hometown was left in another dimension, as she drove away from the always-glaring city lights, the metallic noises, and the smell of fuel. As she got closer to Storybrooke, she felt cleansed from the hardening times of living in a big city.

She was glad she had that opportunity. Not every journalist that submitted their request for a research project was accepted into Mister Gold’s prestigious Park, and she knew she was privileged. And it was all due to Mary Margaret.

She glanced at her phone, laying on the passenger seat, AUX cord disconnected and battery gradually dying. That was a long trip. The instructions she was given were clear enough, but, still, for a moment she worried she would get lost in all the sharp turns and bifurcations. Storybrooke was considered a hidden gem for a reason.

She sighed, as she forced herself to look back to the road. A few miles left, and she would be in her hotel room, all settled with her books and her notes. She would take a nice shower to wash off hours of continuous driving and she would have the sleep of her life. She couldn’t wait.

Just as she finished yet another turn and avoided the overgrown bushes at the edges of the road, she heard her phone ring. _Dance of The Sugar-Plum Fairy_ slowly filled the silence in the car, and she swayed her head to the sweet notes for a few seconds before cutting off the song to answer the call. She put it on speaker, and the voice that greeted her made her wish she had checked the caller ID first.

Her sigh was heavier this time.

“Oh, perfect! I’m glad I caught you before you went to bed,” The accented voice sounded through the static, and Belle rolled her eyes at nothing.

“What is it, Mr. Jones?” She barely disguised her annoyance. “Is there something wrong?” She asked, knowing the answer couldn’t possibly surprise her.

He had the habit of calling her under all and any pretenses, only to learn what she was doing, where she was, who she was with. Over the years, it had become embarrassingly obvious how desperate he could be.

“No, nothing is wrong. The decision remains” He explained, sounding a little out of breath. “I just wanted to clarify some things that were said at the meeting last week” He pointed, “About your assignment”

Belle rolled her eyes again, and cursed soundlessly at her dashboard. _Of course he was going to revisit that discussion. Why couldn’t he just let it go?_

“Sure” She exhaled.

“Miss Blanchard implied the necessity of close personal contact for exploring the more human side of…” An awkward pause “…them, but I, once again, advise you against that”

 _Of course he did._ Belle shook her head, incredulously. She wished there was someone in the car with her to share all of her irritated reactions.

“Many of them are tricksters,” he continued, unaffected by Belle’s lack of response. “They are not to be trusted —“

“I understand your concern, Mr. Jones” She adopted her best, most formal tone. She knew it drove him crazy when she talked to him like that; like they were strictly professional with each other. “But that wouldn’t be a very well done job, now would it? It would be considered poor work to actively ignore quite possibly _the_ most important aspect about them: their human component” She looked at the phone almost as if she could see his aggravated face through it.

She couldn’t believe she was repeating that. She had said it multiple times last week, and he was the only one too stubborn to understand. She almost considered he was jealous _she_ was the one who got to do the job.

“I understand that your journalistic code, or something, expects you to try and learn everything about them” he sounded more avid now “but I _urge_ you to have caution when treating them like humans. _They’re not_. They’re only _nearly_ , and that’s what makes them so captivating” he built a dramatic pause and Belle had to hold in her groan “And dangerous. That’s also what put them there in the first place, so —“

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jones” Belle was getting seriously irritated now “but I have specific directions from Miss Blanchard to engage them like human patients, before interpreting them as exotic creatures. _That’s_ what makes them unique, and that’s the point of the research” She felt her hands grip the steering wheel with a little more force and necessary, and she told herself to relax. “I couldn’t sacrifice all of our hard work in fear that they’ll play with my head”

She made sure to exaggerate her joking tone, so that he would finally understand how she viewed the whole discussion. But again, that seemed to be futile.

“Not just that, Belle—“

“Killian, _please_ ” She knew resorting to his name would at least snap him out of his deep focus. “Let us not mix things up. This is work”

She pointed her index finger at the empty space in front of her, as if giving a lecture to a grumpy invisible child. It was honestly a shame he couldn’t see how patronizing she was truly being. Oh, the glory of cellphones.

“This is the work of long years of study and research — your investment, Mary Margaret’s career project — and _this_ is my part to play” She made another turn, feeling her feet push a little heavier on the gas pedal. Arguing and driving wasn’t the best mix. “The responsibility is all mine now, so I’ll make my own decisions to do my job the best that I can, how I believe it should be done. So, _please”_ She finished in a sigh.

The silence that followed was made louder by the static.

“I’m still a share holder, you know that, right?” His voice was rougher this time. Belle could picture the clenching of his jaw and the dark furrowed brow on the other end. “I have as much power in this decision as Mary Margaret”

Belle pursed her lips. “Don’t play this game, now. This is Mary Margaret’s project. It has always been. And if this is how she believes I must approach the field study, that’s how I will do it. You’re not in charge on this. End of story”

“Belle—“

She breathed out, exasperated. He had the rare special skill of getting under her skin.

“I’m driving, Mr. Jones. It’s night already, and I can’t wait to get to my hotel. I have to hang up” She reached for the phone, keeping her eyes steady on the road ahead. “Have a good night. Tell Miss Blanchard I’ll call her in the morning.”

As she picked up the phone, she heard more clearly his frustrated mumbling on the line. “Okay” He conceded. “Have a good night. _Be careful.”_

She brought the phone into her line of vision and hovered her thumb over the red button. “I will. We both know I can handle myself” And she ended the call.

As soon as his name disappeared from the screen and the phone turned back to black, she threw it back onto the passenger seat, releasing a long held groan of annoyance.

_Gods! He was difficult._

Luckily, she wouldn’t have to talk to him once she finally started working. It would be liberating and wonderful — to finally work on her passion without having to worry about _when_ he would decide to come by her office and force a boring conversation over something as meaningless as the weather or _their relationship._

She would have the town for herself, and that was all the freedom she needed.

***

The green sign on the side of the road finally told her she was entering Storybrooke, and her smile was bright and thankful. She couldn’t stand to drive a minute longer.

She followed the directions she had saved from the internet. Steering slowly now, careful to look out the window and pay attention to all the signs and guiding points.

Surprisingly enough, Storybrooke was an easy town to navigate. There were more homes than corporate buildings, more pharmacies than shopping malls, and more humble restaurants than food chains. She was pleasantly surprised.

Belle didn’t know whether she should blame the hour of the night or the difficult access for Storybrooke’s quiet streets. Not more than two cars were parked per block, all the stores were closed, and only a few bars every four corners were open. That was a remarkably quiet friday night.

Her smile felt deeper now. The town was made just for her.

As she found herself around the streets, she located her hotel. _Granny’s Bed and Breakfast_. The glowing red sign was flickering, and a few warm lights were on in the first floor. She was expected.

Easing her car into a stop in one of the many empty parking spaces of the parking lot, she turned off the heated engine and stepped down on the concrete. Her legs felt like stones, senseless and hard, and her back was tight, protesting every more as she stretched her limbs. The journey had been merciless on her muscles.

She circled the car, opened the trunk and took out all of her bags. She adjusted the heavy backpack on one shoulder, balanced the thick folders under her arms, and pulled the bag up on its wheels. _She might have packed too much._

When she finally made her way to the hotel, she was immediately greeted by the charming smell of wood, leather and books. She looked around, and gaped at the beauty of the place.

It wasn’t _extravagant_ , but it certainly wasn’t dull, either. The hotel had a domestic, if not nostalgic feeling in its walls; the huge wooden furniture on the hall, complete with a reading space with a wooden coffee table in the middle — the puffy carpet in front of the fireplace, and the shelves, thick and old, filled with books. She sighed an enamored sigh. She was in love with the place already.

If she had known her grandmothers, she would have swore _this_ is what their houses looked like. Old and welcoming, like the perfect grandmother.

She carried her bags to the counter, and waited after ringing the old bell. She was still very much devoted to admiring all the details around, when an old woman greeted her.

Gray hair tied in a low bun and thin round glasses over her nose, the woman looked friendly.

“Good evening,” she smiled what seemed to be an automatic response to guests, as she eyed Belle from head to toe. “You must be Belle”

“That I am,” Belle nodded, adjusting her backpack to her shoulder to better extend her hand in greeting. “And you are Eugenia Lucas, is that right?”

The woman shook Belle’s hand, and Belle was surprised to feel the firm grip on her fingers. Not very _grandmotherly_. “Yes. But here I’m just Granny. It’s my brand.” She shrugged, quickly letting go of Belle’s hand and reaching under the counter. Within a second, she was back up with a huge book in hands. She dropped it in front of Belle and turned it to her. “Now, you’re finally here. I was wondering if you had gotten lost”

She handed Belle a pen, and again Belle struggled with her bags to write down her information on the given book. “Almost!” she commented as she filled in the lines, “The road is tricky and I had never been here before. I’m lucky I found my way on the first try!”

She returned the pen, and the woman examined her information before continuing with the small talk. She seemed a bit impatient, but Belle could understand that. She would too, if she was forced to stay up until midnight to wait for a late guest.

“That you are” Granny curved another mechanic smile, reaching under the counter one more time. She rose with a round, vintage key in hand, “You’re in Room 204. It’s just around the corner, up the stairs,” She pointed to the staircase as soon as Belle took the key. “A big green door. You can’t miss it.” And with her third forced smile, Belle knew she extend not prolong the chatter.

She nodded. “Perfect. Thank you, Granny. Have a good night” With tired arms, she bent down and over to grab all of her bags again, if only to make a single trip up to her room. _She definitely packed too much._

She was struggling to pull the huge bag one step at a time, when she finally heard the slow reply.

“Have a good night, too, lady”

And with that, the old woman vanished into her room, in the back of the hotel.

“ _Thank you for the help”_ Belle whispered under her breath. She smiled at the small victory when she finally managed to pull the tiny wheels of the big bag to the second floor, onto the thick carpet.

One, two, three doors passed and she reached her room. 204. The Green Door. She was finally going to have her night of sleep. Oh, and _a shower._ Oh, and _take off her shoes!_

She shut the door behind her when she conquered the challenge to get all of her bags through the door and on the big chair by the window. Feeling so much lighter, she jumped on the bed, letting the soft mattress roll and bob under her weight. _Gods, that felt good._

She sighed again, feeling all the tension from her trip finally show itself on her tense muscles. She was collecting her energy to head for a shower, when her phone rang. She enjoyed the soft notes again, and answered without hesitation when the caller ID showed her friend’s name.

“Hello, Miss Blanchard” She smiled at the ceiling. Talking to Mary Margaret would surely erase the bitter taste of her last caller.

“Good evening, Miss French” The young woman mirrored her mocking formal tone. “Have you made yourself comfortable in your hotel room already?”

“Yeah” Belle looked around, glad to discover that the wonder of a grandmother’s home was not just limited to the entrance hall. Even the rooms had a nostalgic, universally familiar air about them. “Just got here. It’s just a lovely place. The hotel and the whole town! It’s a shame that is seems to empty” She admitted.

“Well, Storybrooke has a reputation” Mary Margaret casually explained, “You can’t expect everyone to enjoy it”

Belle hummed in agreement. “I suppose” She turned on her side, trying to take some of the strain off her back. “Why did you call?”

“Just checking up on you” Mary answered quickly.

Belle frowned, elongating her reply. _“Really?”_

“Kind of” Mary admitted, a nervous laughter coming through the line. “David told me he saw Killian’s call to you, and I thought it would be best that I—“

“Don’t worry!” Belle interrupted before Mary’s concerns extrapolated all possibilities. “I know what to do. Killian’s insecurity about this won’t change my mind,” She explained, feeling more certain than she ever had until now.

“I know!” The woman breathed. “I know! Just, I didn’t what to risk it. This story won’t be the same if we don’t treat them as at least _part_ human, you know?”

Belle smiled at Mary Margaret’s nerves. She always worried too much.

“Better than anyone” Belle assured her, “Don’t worry. I know the story I want to write and I know the story you want to tell. All that is left now is for us to find it here”

“We’re so close, Belle!” Mary Margaret was probably holding her hands tights to her chest by now, “Like we never been before! Like we never dreamed we would be!” Belle admired her passion. Mary Margaret’s commitment was easily one of Belle’s inspirations in life. “Please, don’t be freaked out and run from there. We need your keen eyes and your wise words on this”

Belle laughed. She loved how Mary Margaret resorted to flattery to win an inexistent argument. She didn’t mind the compliments, either.

“Of course” Belle replied “It’s what I plan to do. And being freaked out is not even an option, please!” At the thought, her eyes were drawn to her folders, where she kept her previous research on related works. Not all of them were brilliant — in fact, most of them triggered a different kind of inspiration. A bitter kind. “I’ve read so many fabricated horror stories and paranoid theories about them that I think I’m ready for the real thing. I mean, after this _dramatic interpretation_ from Anastasia’s, I can handle anything” She joked.

Mary Margaret sounded more relaxed, chuckling “I’m glad! Ugh, I _knew_ you were the woman for the job! I have so much faith in you, girl!”

Belle couldn’t help but laugh again. She _really_ didn’t mind the flattering.

“Thank you” She nodded “Now go to sleep and let me have my rest!” She demanded, almost hearing the silent, desperate call of the shower for her. “I have an exciting day tomorrow, after all.”

Mary Margaret giggled like a school girl. “You most certainly have. Okay, okay. I’ll let you go now. Have a good night and a good job tomorrow!”

“Thanks. Good night” She pulled the phone from her ear and clicked it off.

Struggling to get up, she made her way to her bags. Throwing aside all the many books, she collected her clothes and disappeared into the shower.

And like a wish granted, she slept the most perfect sleep that night.

***

Her alarm went off early in the morning, to no avail — she had already been up for an hour.

She had settled in. Enthusiastically, of course.

All of her clothes were flawlessly folded into the old drawers, her shoes organized by color in the closet, and all her books nested like treasures on the shelf.

She felt at home.

Listening to another voiceless melody from her phone, she brushed her teeth. She turned off the water, wiped her mouth clean and stared at the oval mirror for a few minutes.

She looked professional. Professional blouse and professional skirt, of professional length. Of course, as Mary Margaret always insisted, “professional didn’t exclude _attractive”_ , and she was just that.

She smiled at the silliness of her thoughts. The excitement of her new adventure was sending chills up her spine, filling her belly with professional butterflies and making her giggle happily as if that was her first day on the job.

In many ways, it was.

Her first time entering the Park. The famous _Storybrooke Habitats._ She had only ever read about it in science papers, news articles and — yes, unfortunately — gossip magazines. All she knew of the place was from other people’s perspectives and now, _finally_ , after years of hard work crafting the impeccable project, she was ready to experience it with her own eyes, and write about it with her own words. No wonder she was so excited.

But, _again,_ she was professional, and her excitement couldn´t outshine her qualifications. Like Mary Margaret had said, she was the woman for the job.

Still, it didn’t keep her nerves from acting out.

For the fourth time, she tried the line in the mirror. “Why are _you_ here?” And she winced. _Too condescending._ Again, she composed herself, and tried another time, “ _Why_ are you here?” A groan. _Too judgmental!_ One last time. She could do this. “Why are you _here?_ ” And she cursed at herself. _Too sweet!_

She was about to allow herself another last try, when a knock sounded on the door and she jumped on her shoulders. “Yes?” She replied.

“Miss French? Breakfast is ready” Granny notified her, and Belle watched as her cheeks blushed in embarrassment in the mirror. _Gods, hopefully Granny didn’t hear her practicing._

“Coming!” She tried to mask her nerves, and quickly adjusted herself back into full professional mode. With one last look, she told her reflection, “You can do this” and met with Granny downstairs.

***

The breakfast tasted like the place looked. Amazing.

She truly believed Granny was the embodiment of all the sweet and perfect grandmothers in the world. Even if, admittedly, she had yet to find something _sweet_ about Granny. But she had shelter and food, so she wouldn’t dare to complain. She had never tasted more delicious pancakes in her life; any eventual grumpiness could be excused.

She got back into her car, carrying with her only the essentials this time. Her notebook and a pencil case filled with emergency pens, pencils and markers. Belle was professionally prepared.

She opened her glove-box and retrieved the Working Pass she was given — delivered by mail as soon as their request was approved, that was the greatest gift Belle had ever received. She proudly pinned it to her blouse, and adjusted it in the mirror.

The photo they used wasn’t her _favorite_ part of it, but she was just glad to see her name there.

_Belle French, Journalist for The Author, Working Guest._

It looked official, complete with the Park color scheme and their — maybe a little bit pretentious — logo. Belle rolled her shoulders, imagining the ID magically made her a very important person. She made a note to ask them to let her keep it after she was done.

After another venture through the town, she followed the glowing dot on her phone that indicated the location of the Park. Far from Main Street and the major population, _The Storybrooke Habitats_ were removed to the far edge of town, near the forest. She questioned the large distance for a moment, but as soon as the red dot of her car met the glowing dot of the Park, she understood the reason behind it all.

The Park was _huge._ Possibly larger than Storybrooke itself. It was almost like a Disney Land of fantastic, real-life creatures, divided into climate zones and areas of special vegetation. From the entrance gate, she could see the roofs of the tallest buildings, the artificial mini-mountains, even the huge aquarium in the far corner of the territory.

The whole place was immense, and she waited for a moment longer before pulling into the gate, just to take it all in and engrave it on her mind.   _Oh, if only Mary Margaret could see it! She would tear up._

She stopped the car at the request of the guards that awaited at the tall, fancy gates. They wore clean black uniforms, with their names golden on an ID card similar to Belle’s.

She rolled down the window as one man approached, a friendly smile on his face.

“Good morning. My name is Belle French,” she introduced herself, making sure to hold up her pass for the guard to see. “My boss called yours to set everything up. I work for The Author”

The guard raised his thick eyebrows, showing recognition on his face. “Oh, the Journalist! Mr. Gold is expecting you. Come in, come in” As he moved away from the car, he waved to the other guard in the station.

Belle waited as a loud, metallic noise followed the opening of the gates. With a deep, composing breath, she drove in.

***

The scenery gradually changed.

From the entrance that resembled a normal town in many ways, the world slowly transformed, and Belle found herself immersed in what seemed like a fantasy scenery. Now, _she couldn’t blame Mary Margaret if she teared up._

Right off the gates, Belle was met by an entirely new architecture. The theme was medieval, and all the shopping spots — convenience stores, food places, pharmacies and cafes — looked like they were pulled from a fairytale book.

The street was no longer concrete, but a road of many large rocks of many different colors,  like the public squares from centuries ago. The lights by the sidewalk were stylized to resemble torches, and the benches were picture-perfect replicas of a correspondent time.

Even the trees added to the scenery, colored in unusual shades — blue, purple, gold. The Park was projected to feel, look, smell and breathe like another world, another time. And, how amazingly it worked. Belle almost forgot she came from an ordinary town of modern times.

Again, she followed the signs. Stylized, tasteful signs that guided her to Mr. Gold’s office — the head of the place. She couldn’t wait to meet with the man that envisioned such a transporting experience.

After she found the perfect parking stop under a marvelous purple tree, she walked the empty sidewalks to the golden door she was promised was the right one.

She knocked before coming in, and a gentle bell rang in her presence.

She looked around again, amazed at how many times she would be rendered useless by the beauty in her surroundings. She was a writer, after all — that tended to be her weakness.

The office, however, looked different.

It didn’t obey the same medieval theme the Park was committed to. In fact, it seemed the opposite, it had more earthy colors and a dusty scent. And it was bursting with different kinds of relics, treasures, paintings, weapons, tools, old books and weird skulls on the walls.

Glass cases formed little hallways, much like a museum. She understood that was the purpose of it. As she looked around, she realized each relic was in reference to a creature.

On the walls, hung paintings of mermaids, a set of dragon fangs, the skin from a large, white wolf, the wands of witches and even the tiny outfits for a cricket. All of them, homages to the residents in the Park.

It was somehow unnerving — she felt it in the raising of her hairs —, how much of what adorned that room were actually remains of living beings. Fangs, fur, fins, feet — all taken from deceased specimens. Maybe they were displayed out of respect, maybe not. But Belle couldn’t deny the uneasy pressure in her gut, as she walked through the place.

Finally, to stop her nervous wondering, Mr. Gold walked in, from a room in the back. He flashed her a welcoming smile, and offered her his hand. She took it promptly.

”Miss French. It is a pleasure to meet you” He bowed his head to the side, letting locks of his light long hair fall on his face.

He looked _old._ Well, older than the pictures, at least. He was smaller, too, and seemed to have a walking impairment, as he leaned heavily on this cane. His figure was an interesting one.

It was a surprising sight, to be honest. Belle would have imagined a tall, dark, threatening man to run this place, but Mr. Gold seemed… harmless.

“Good morning, Mr. Gold. Belle French, writer for The Author” She released his hand and adjusted her notebook over her chest, “My superior, Miss Blanchard, talked to you about my time here”

“Of course,” he nodded, “It’s good to finally meet you. We’re very pleased that you’re here to learn about our Habitats.” He rested both his hands on his cane, finding new balance in his stance.

“That is my pleasure!” Belle agreed with a smile on her face. She looked around for a moment, “Where is your team? I’d like to introduce myself”

Gold met her eagerness with calm. “You’ll met them as you discover our Habitats. But I’m afraid I’m the only one in an administrative position”

Belle raised her eyebrows, clear blue eyes rounded in surprise. “You run all this by yourself?”

“Yes,” he smiled, seeming flattered by her shock. “I have my supporters and some financial help, but that’s all I really need,” He shrugged, the relaxed smile never leaving his sharp face. “I like to make the decisions myself. I hope you can understand that” He motioned to Belle with a flick of his hand, and Belle quickly explained herself.

“No, no! Of course, I do,” She thought for a second. “I’m just... surprised. This isn’t exactly a small place or light responsibility” She glanced at the many objects around. If they were any indications of the number of creatures they had, it wouldn´t be anything short from _impressive._ “You must work a lot, Mr. Gold”

Again, he accepted the compliment with a shrug of his shoulder. “In the beginning, yes. But as the years went on and I developed and expanded my team, it became easier,” he embraced a lighter tone. “I guess I cracked the mystery on running a place this special”

Belle was silent for a few seconds before replying. Her eyes still doing little to hide her youthful enthusiasm. “That’s amazing”

“Please,” Gold waved his free hand, “save your praise. You need to meet out creatures first”

Belle agreed with a chuckle. “That is right” And a moment, as she weighted her next words. Somehow, they felt daring to say, under the watch of so many _pieces_ of creatures around. Corpses, they were. “I trust Miss Blanchard disclosed our objectives with this project”

Gold hummed, turning his back to Belle to walk to his desk. “She did. We had a long talk, right before you got here. She explained the nature of you research and how you intend to approach our habitants” His eyes fell to the many forms and papers on his desk, and he busied himself with organizing them. “I have no oppositions,” Finally, he looked back at Belle. That same smile still in place. “I’m sure you will find all their kinds immensely _interesting_ , to say the least”

“I hope,” Belle let out a hopeful sigh. “Personally, I was very anxious to get here and meet them” She looked around again, but this time she tried to ignore the more gruesome parts of the ornaments. “Their legends are as old as time, so to finally meet a living being that I’ve only known from dusty books, that’s…!” She breathed out, content in not choosing a word. There would none to englobe all she felt, anyway.

“A _privilege_ , I suppose” Gold completed, “Indeed, it is. We don’t allow simply anybody here. Some of our residents are…” He looked down, as if searching for the least offensive term. “ _Volatile_ to the general public gaze — which is usually and unmistakably a mixture of curiosity, disgust and fear — and, to keep this from turning into a circus, I reserve the right to carefully select and arrange the meetings”

Belle listened attentively, as Gold again motioned to her with thin fingers.

“I must say, The Author’s is a team like no other. I think you can finally end the fear that surrounds most of their names”

The very idea of it filled Belle with joy. She nodded more times than it was necessary. “That is what I honestly want, sir” Her smile contaminated Gold, and he surrendered to her energy.

With a chuckle, he replied, “Well, no need to delay you a minute longer, then. I’ll provide you with the guide to the initial Habitats and, as you explore the Park, our team will introduce you to the most _secured_ locations” He handed Belle the map of the Park, colorful in plastic paper. For a while, his words echoed in the silence, and he seemed to realize their weight. “But don’t fear them. They present no danger to you. All their cages are designed to keep their specific kind in, invulnerable and inescapable to their capacities” A calm pause, and a reassuring smile. “It is all perfectly safe”

Belle smiled back, feeling honestly refreshed by the concern the man showed. “That’s nice to know. Thank you”

Gold bowed his head again. He found new balance with his cane, as he raised his arm towards the door. “Go on, now, and meet our creatures. We are all very keen to read the story you are going to write”

Belle couldn’t help another giggle. “As I am, sir” She copied his bow, folded the map inside her notebook and excused herself. “I’ll being immediately. Thank you again and have a good day”

“Good day, Miss French”

She turned her back to him and exited the office, with more delight than her little chest could hold.

Her work had finally begun.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The sun had already reached the top of sky and was on its leisurely way down the horizon when Belle finally finished her interviews in the west side of the Park.

Her feet were killing her. She underestimated how large and distant from one another the Habitats would have been, and now, at five in the afternoon, she started reconsidering her professional choice for professional heels. Maybe sneakers could be just as comfortably professional, for the next day. _Yes, definitely sneakers._

Despite the fatigue from walking all day, she was happy with what she had seen and whom she had met.

Her very first stop had been to _The_ _Dwarves PUB_ — that is how they called the mines they had built for the tiny people. It was a charming place, in its peculiar way. Like an actual mine, they had started in a cavern and ended many feet underground, crossing passage after passage. A main corridor split into several others, as the guests— in this case, Belle and the dwarves’ Caretaker — walked by all the entries and the glass walls.

Belle was glad she didn’t suffer from any degree of claustrophobia, or that would have made her debut interview with the residents impossible. The place was already _underground_ , torches on the walls _surrounded_ them and the ceiling was inches smaller than what could be considered comfortable. She knew it was built in proportion to the dwarves smaller bodies, but even she at times felt trapped in the passageways as they turned corner after corner.

At least the residents looked happy. As Mike, the Caretaker, had said, they lived and worked there.

“Dwarves”, he had explained as soon as they started walking into the cavern “take pride in their labor. If you strip them of that, they would not have purpose in life. That’s why we extended the mine so they can have a place to work”

Belle had nodded, curious and appreciative of the crew’s commitment. “Of course”, Mike had added, “It’s redundant work. We put in new things for them to mine and break every month, but they enjoy it. We even built a Time Clock for them to punch in their cards. We don’t require them to, but they like it” Mike had grinned proudly, pointing to the contraption on the wall.

Belle smiled again. As small as it was, the place could be lovely.

After they explored their working area, Mike brought Belle to meet their rooms. It was an entirely different part of the mines, with cleaner floors and rustic picture frames on the wall, decorated for the tastes for a dwarf, she supposed. Slowly, the cave transformed into an underground inn, as they got closer to their shared living area and all the doors that led to their personal rooms. Her eyes wondered to where a long counter stood, in front of many barrels.

 _They even had a bar!_ Belle was officially impressed, now.

Of course, everything was behind either thick bars or glass walls, but they all allowed the guests to interact with the residents in civil enough manners — a nice conversation was still possible.

Belle watched as the dwarves talked amongst themselves, shared a huge glass of beer and laughed at some dirty joke one of they had acted out. They all sat on the big — well, definitely big _for them_ — couch in the middle of the room, and chattered like old friends. Another warm smiled illuminated Belle’s face.

“May I ask,” Mike dispersed her thoughts as he leaned in to whisper to her, “What do you know about them?” He asked, without taking his eyes off the dwarves. Belle took deep breath to try and form words.

“The basics, really” She shook her head, careful not to miss the tiniest interactions between them. The way they moved, how they talked, how they looked. She had to remember all that to write down later, when she walked out of the dim light of the torches. “I didn’t really want to study each creature too extensively, so not to affect my judgment of the individuals. But, appearance wise,” She raised her hand towards them, as if showing them to Mike for the first time, “they’re small humans, big nose and ears, that love to work. I think that would be correct” She finished with an amused gaze on her face.

Mike nodded, averting his eyes back to them. “Fairly,” he admitted, “But you’ll learn fast enough that our creatures have traits beyond their general descriptions. They have…” he exhaled a sound that Belle could only define as weary, “ _some strong personalities_ ”

“Oh” Belle arched her eyebrows, curious to understand where the sudden change had come from.

“Yeah,” he seemed to catch her unspoken question “Well, I’ll introduce you to the one we call Grumpy” Mike glanced back at her, with a dramatic expression on his face; eyes big and comically alarmed, “And you’ll see what I mean”

***

Grumpy was definitely _grumpy_. She thought that, if ever Granny considered visiting the Park, she and the dwarf would get along.

Nevertheless, the awkward conversation and the judgmental looks she got from Grumpy were quickly kicked to the back of her mind, as the busied herself with meeting other creatures.

She _knew_ she would meet some unpleasant residents. She was prepared for that, _professionally so_. She would not let that upset her. She had been dealing with Killian for years — a simple rude remark wouldn’t affect her at all.

Almost like a heavenly palate cleanser, she continued her journey and was introduced to _The_ _Fairy Forest,_ The Fairies Habitat.

It was much, _much_ smaller than the Dwarves Pub. In fact, so tiny and cute that Aurora — the Fairies Caretaker — had carefully explained that it was not meant to tour in. Belle laughed at the joke. _Of course it wasn’t._ The forest was to the scale of plastic dolls, all reduced to feel normal-sized to the surprisingly petite creatures. _And, gods, was it cute._

It was big, even in its smallness, and Belle immediately understood _why._ There lived several fairies, all glowing different colors, wearing different dresses, flying in different places under the huge glass cupola. It was a colony, basically; so it wasn’t a surprise that even the tiniest forest she had even seen extended for almost a hundred feet in diameter.

Aurora surely had her hands full watching all over them. Admittedly, it seemed like a much more pleasant job than watching after constantly drunk — occasionally rude — dwarves. Because, gods, the fairies were so nice.

Blue, the one Aurora explained was their Matriarch, was the sweetest of them all, treating Belle with the care and attention she would _have expected_ from Granny. It was the perfect compensation, she thought.

They carried a lovely conversation, as Belle and Aurora walked by edge of the habitat, and Blue followed along inside the immense glass dome that held them in. As they reached the end of the forest and the final point of the conversation, Belle said her friendly goodbyes and walked happily to the other side of the street to discover what was left.

She explored _The_ _Witches District,_ the region of the Park reserved for all the different Witches Habitats. It looked like a suburban neighborhood, surrounded by an immense dome, similar to the one keeping the fairies in and, under it, a captivating variety of architecture styles and planned buildings.

On one side of the street, lived the witches who preferred humble cottages with tiny yards and weird gardens. On the other, the more extravagant witches had their elegant mansions, complete with abundant trees and special labs for their potion making.

They lived considerably well, in comparison to the other residents. _So many of them_ , they were gifted with their own individual household of choice, filled with everything and anything they could possibly want.

Their Caretaker, an odd man named Sebastian, explained that their choice to separate them was crucial — it was either that or dealing with a fireball war every week. He continued explaining how competitive and unfriendly the witches could act with one another, and how much of that was reflected in the way their treated the guests.

In light of that, the tour for the particular area was… specially nerve-wracking. Belle met with all the witches — who didn’t exactly care to challenge Sebastian’s unflattering description —, until the two sister that lived at the end of the street were the only ones left.

 _Regina and Zelena_ , they were called.

Sebastian explained they were sisters, and their mother, Cora, had to be exiled to the other extreme of the district, to avoid any more raging battles. Quickly enough, Belle learned to be careful around them.

Their magic was limited to their respective homes, and as Sebastian guided her through the Sisters’ Mansion, he assured her that the bracelet she was given to wear protected her from any kind of magic they might try. It relieved Belle’s nerves, and slowly she stopped seeing them as the angry witches, and started seeing them as the angry suburban women — just as scary and sarcastic, but unable to throw fireballs. That was comfort enough for Belle.

Then, she met with Sarah, who introduced her to _Jiminy’s Library_ , the Cricket Habitat.

Much like the Fairy Forest, it was petite, yet vast. An elegant house with glass walls, adorned with classic — _tiny_ — furniture and many — _tiny_ — replicas of famous books. From literature to advanced science, Cricket read it all, and was able to carry a wonderful conversation with Belle, as soon as they were introduced to one another.

They discussed everything from Shakespeare’s snarky irony to Freud’s inclined problems until Sarah tapped on Belle’s shoulder and showed her the time. It was getting late. They talked for too long, and Belle had to hurry to the next habitat.

She promised Jiminy she would be back to continue their discussion, and headed gleefully to the new destination.

_The Werewolf Den._

***

At first glance, it was nothing special.

As soon as she crossed the ark that announced the new creature, she found herself standing in front of an ordinary wolf habitat. She felt like she had seen that already, from the many times she visited Zoos as a kid. It had trees, fallen trunks, a large den in the ground, a long stream and, far in the distance, an open space for running.

It didn’t strike her with any distinguishable feeling of wonder. It was a large habitat, unquestionably, but she had become desensitized to their size. She expected them to be big, by now. The many square miles, didn’t amaze her.

What caught her attention, however, was the cabin placed roughly in the middle of the wooded zone. A wooden cabin with a humble porch, large windows and a smoking chimney. It resembled the hunting cabins people usually had, in the wilderness, as an escape from the city.

And it had a warm look to it, too — it seemed cozy and simple — and she wondered who lived there.

Tall, thick silver bars secured the entire habitat like a cage. She found that odd. Most places were bounded by reinforced clear glass. The bars were a new element. She concluded, then, it was to be expected.

She knew werewolves were especially vulnerable to silver, and she considered that maybe a clear glass would not be enough to hold them in. Suddenly, then, she _wondered who lived in there,_ for a very different reason.

She turned to the station located just outside the habitat, which she learned was always the Caretaker’s office.

“Excuse me?” She called from where she stood, and instantly a young man emerged from the door, his dark shirt tucked halfway into his pants, and his dark hair a mess. He seemed young. Younger than most Caretakers.

“Yes?” He adjusted his uniform when he became aware of Belle’s gaze. Presentable again, he walked closer. Belle squinted to look at this ID. _Zack._

She pointed to the quiet and empty habitat. “Where are they?”

“Oh,” Zack nodded, “the werewolf. She is a moody one,” He followed Belle’s eyes and examined the cabin. His lips pressed together, almost apologetically. “She doesn’t always show up to meet the guests” he looked back at Belle, raising his shoulders and letting them fall back down. “She’s kind of a loner”

Belle frowned. “Only _one?”_

She found that strange. Most creatures had companions of their same kind. Jiminy was the first she met who lived alone, and she could understand the rarity of a talking cricket, but…. _Werewolves_? Were they really that scarce?

Zack bobbed his head, “The only one. We tried to get her to breed or bite. Anything to pass the curse forward and preserve the species but…” He looked back at the empty space, and a worried shadow crossed his hazel eyes. “She refuses”

Belle examined habitat one more time. The place looked that much bigger now that she knew only one person inhabited it; the cabin, that much lonelier. “What about her pack?” She asked, “The family, parents?”

Zack shook his head, pulling the corners of his mouth downwards, “Nothing. Nothing came before her. When Mr. Gold established the place, she was already the only one”

“That’s… a shame”, Belle breathed out, her frown growing sympathetic. “Her kind is fascinating”

“I agree” Zack sighed alongside Belle. After a second, he snapped his fingers and walked away, back towards his station. “Let me — one second, I’ll ring her out so you can meet her”

Belle watched as he searched through the many controls on the electronic panel in his office. She blinked, “I’m sorry. _Ring her out?”_ She questioned. That was a new term for her.

As Zack turned to her, he gestured, “Uh, werewolves can hear frequencies we can’t. If I play one loud enough, she’ll come out of hiding” and he turned his attention back to finding the right label “Just a second”

“That’s cruel” Belle whispered to herself.

“Don’t worry. They’re strong creatures,” Zack explained, “Or, you don’t want to meet her? I guarantee you, she’s the perfect case for your story” He sounded excited in his argument and Belle couldn’t detect any ill-intentions. Maybe, he really was young.

“Why?” She inclined her head to the side.

“The human thing,” he pointed, “She is very vocal about it. Okay, let me call her”

Finally, he pressed the switch on the panel, but Belle could hear nothing. She watched for long seconds as the den remained unchanged.

She was about to ask him if he pushed the right button, when the cabin door burst open.

 _That sound she could hear._ Loud and sharp, the heavy wooden door hit the walls, and a tall girl stumbled outside, mumbling what must have been curses under her breath.

Belle admired her for a moment.

She looked nothing but _human,_ and that startled Belle. She expected someone much rougher, much stranger, much less… well, _stunning._ And her professional gaze secretly faltered and turned _not so scientific_ , as she followed the girl’s movements.

Fair skin and long dark brown hair, she didn’t appear to be much older than Belle. She wore a ripped pair of jeans and a ripped, oversized t-shirt — none of which appeared to have been designed that way — and Belle assumed that was normal for a werewolf, to have torn clothes from time to time. It was not like everyone shared her same concerns for outfits.

The next thing that caught her attention were the big green eyes, as soon as they were open and free from the pained scowl on the fair face.

The girl released the tight grip of her hands over her ears, and immediately turned her attention to the Caretaker. “ _Fuck, Zack!_ What do you want?” She cursed at the boy, ignoring Belle’s presence completely.

Zack put his hands on his hips as he reprimanded her like a kindergarten teacher. “You have a visitor. Show some manners”, he signaled to Belle, and the girl’s attention slowly gravitated to her.

Belle froze in place. The green eyes felt heavy on her body, examining her every detail.

The girl appeared annoyed, to say the least.

“Oh, _nice._ Another guest” she faked a celebratory grin that made Belle very uncomfortable, “What is it this time? Another fashion magazine wanting to know what dwarves and witches wear?”

She looked Belle up and down again, like she saw in her the personification of all that she despised, and Belle felt transported to her worst days of high school.

“Ruby, be nice!” Zack pleaded, but it sounded more like a warning.

_So Ruby was her name._

“She is a respectful journalist and she wants to talk to you for a moment. _Friendly”_ he emphasized. Maybe he saw how nervous Belle was.

Ruby scoffed, “Sure. I believe it”

Belle breathed in. She had met _Grumpy._ She had met _Regina._ And _Zelena_. She had met _Granny._ This girl was nothing on them.

She cleared her throat and took one step closer to be bars.

“Hello. My name is Belle French, I work for The Author,” she bowed her head, “It’s an honor to meet you”

Ruby didn’t seem impressed by her courtesy. She just raised a single eyebrow, “Is it? I’m just an ordinary looking person”

Belle shook her head and forced an enthusiastic smile, “You’re a werewolf! Legends of your kind are sacred in certain places of the world” she gripped her notebook against her chest, “You are… a myth and a deity to some”

Again, Ruby’s reaction was apathetic. “Bring _them_ to meet me, then”

Belle flinched, and she would have tried to circle the subject, but Zack stepped in. “Ruby. Watch it, or I’ll push it again”

Ruby shot him an angry stare and shrugged. Belle felt her own shoulders tense up.

“I’m sorry,” she tried to pull Ruby’s attention back to her, “Did I come at a bad time?”

The rosy lips curved into a sarcastic smile, and Ruby gestured around. “I’m locked against my will in this silver cage and I can’t get any sleep because they have a special button to piss me off” She waited as her words reached Belle and broke her smile into pieces. Then, she added, “It is _always_ a bad time”

Belle gulped, “I… I’m sorry”

“What do you want?” Ruby sighed, impatient.

“I wanted to chat,” Belle explained, testing her calmest, most harmless voice. The one she used to talk to the cyclops few stops earlier. “You see, I’m writing a piece about the _humanness_ in creatures like you —“

Ruby’s mask of indifference flickered for a second, but she quickly rolled her shoulder back and disguised it with another layer of annoyance.

“— and over the course of a few months, I’ll get to know all of you, your behaviors, your personalities, your specificities. And I’ll write a story that will change the way people look at you” Belle promised, and waited patiently for Ruby’s response. A nice one, for a change.

After the brief silence, the girl just shook her head and looked around. “Oh, that surely is hopeful of you. But, I’m sorry, you won’t change much” She raised her brow, drawing vibrant fatigue on her face. “People have already decided what to think and feel about us. We’re different, so that makes us a circus attraction”

Belle gasped before she could stop herself, “That is not true!”

Ruby’s face changed. For a moment, the apathy left her body and she was renewed with an air of defiance. “It isn’t?”

She stepped closer to the bars, and Belle’s bones begged her to step back. She fought to stand her ground.

“Then, please, explain to me why we're not talking over pancakes and tea, sitting at nice picnic table, talking like normal people do,” Ruby continued, her green eyes daring and steady on Belle’s terrified blue ones. “Explain to me why I’m in _this_ cage, with _this_ guy with his hand on the button,” she pointed to Zack on the other side, “and _you_ ” She took one more step too close, “armed with your flowery notebook and pen while you dissect me”

The silence reigned. Belle wanted to reply, but she couldn’t find the words. Or the voice to. She swallowed her nerves, and cast a glance to Zack, who gently tried to calm her down.

“You see?” Ruby interjected their exchange, “Now even _you_ are scared of me. You, the important person destined to change my life,” She snorted a dry laugh. “Wow, I’m optimistic”

Belle couldn’t let the girl talk to her like that. She was _professional._ She had _qualifications._ She had been dealing with _Killian_ for years. She would not let this girl — who reminded her too much of her high school bullies — intimidate her.

She inhaled deeply, letting the air fill her with confidence. Or at least pretend to.

“I’m sorry, but I have no power over the circumstances under which we meet,” She explained, feeling her voice lose the soft edges, “This was all arranged beforehand —“

“So,” Ruby inclined her head closer to the bars, “You _would_ be okay with talking to me outside this cage, where I can easily kill you?”

Belle’s breath got caught in her throat. Her body tensed up, and before she could defend herself, Ruby’s body contracted in pain. Her hands shot to her head, covering her ears, and Belle turned to Zack. He had his hand firm on the ringing button.

 “No, wait!” She protested.

He eased his fingers and released the button, ending the command. “I’m sorry. She was being rude,” he said.

Belle puffed in frustration. That wouldn’t help her argument.

She turned back to try and assist Ruby somehow, but the girl had already staggered back up, straightening her posture. She bared her teeth, exposing canines sharper than of a human. Her laugh was angry, now.

“Tell me,” Ruby’s green eyes found Belle again, “On the world outside, do people have useful little buttons like this for when others are being rude or inappropriate?”

Belle let out an exasperated sigh, “Look, I don’t believe in this kind of handling. Don’t treat me like I do”

“Fine,” Ruby dropped her shoulders as she breathed out, “How should I treat you, then?” She eyed Belle down again, “You are still holding your notebook and pen, after all”

Belle looked down at herself. She pressed the notebook to her chest, with a defensive kind of force, while she held the pen tightly in her tense fingers. Her posture didn’t match her words. She obligated herself to change it.

Reaching for the bag on her shoulder, she put the belongings inside and nudged the bag back, away from view.

“Nice gesture,” Ruby conceded, “But you’ll get back to your hotel room and write about me, just the same. It doesn’t change why you’re here”

“I’m not here to dissect you” Belle fought.

“ _You are_ ” Ruby’s voice was hard. “You are going to study how I talk, how I walk, how I eat and how I sleep. And then, you’re going to ask me, sweetly veiled, how the werewolf feels like. What I can hear, what I can smell. What I can break and how fast I can run,” She studied Belle’s reactions, raw and exposed in her anxiety. The tension in her frown never relaxing as she continued, “And then, if I can change, how I do it, and, you’ll study me all over again in wolf form”

Ruby allowed the silence to carry her tone.

“You’ll write it all down, and maybe, next to the scientific analysis and cold data, you’ll write a beautiful, sentimental piece about how _this particular werewolf feels_ ,” She placed a hand on her chest, mocking a thankful expression, “That she hates owls and is very moody in the mornings. That she likes bad movies and electronic music. And then, finally, _you’ll go home_ ” Ruby let her hand fall to her side, her face slowly going back to the stern features, “And I’ll still be here. Granted, with a few new strangers wanting to meet me — who knows, maybe even _date_ me. But I’ll still be here” She clenched her jaw, “Does that sound okay to you?”

This time, Ruby didn’t break the silence. She said what she wanted to say. She left Belle to drown in it, now, wordless and voiceless.

Belle tried in vain a few times, to speak up, stand up for herself, make her case, but she _couldn’t._ She was stuck.

“Maybe we should move on?” Zack’s suggestion startled her. He approached quietly, his voice as gentle as possible. Ruby grinned at the change in the atmosphere.

“Yeah, yeah. Go” She waved them away, turning her back to the bars and walking back to her cabin. “You still have to meet _Ariel,_ the mermaid who loves romantic comedies and classical music. She will be friendlier and her story will _certainly_ sell more,” she yelled back, “Go, go!”

Belle snapped — that was all she could take of this bully. She stomped, her hands _rigid_ in fists by her sides. “You’re rude!” She screamed to Ruby, voice cracked and thin.

_Very professional._

She could only see Ruby’s shoulders shaking in what she assumed was an amused laughter. Then, the girl shouted back to Belle. “And you’re _free_ ,” she waved a last time, “Goodbye now”

And she slammed the cabin door shut.

The blast rose louder this time, shutting up any possible attempt at a clever comeback from Belle. Not that she would be able to think of any.

So she slumped back in her place, stunned and flustered.

_What a great way to end the day._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, thanks so much for the response. There comes another one.

Granny wasn’t the biggest fan of small talk and Belle soon realized the best way to enjoy her breakfast in the morning was to sit in silence, scroll through the news feed on her phone and let the old woman alone.

Belle would not complain, really. Granny could not be the warm, talkative and friendly host she would expect to run a place as delightful as that, but at least the food she prepared made up for all and any grumpiness in the morning, if not for the whole day.

The woman made the most delicious waffles Belle had ever tasted — not that Belle ever tasted many — and that was enough to convince her that introspective silence wasn’t actually that uncomfortable.

She sipped on her drink as she turned the pages of her notebook, examining what she had written the day before.

Although rushed and crooked, her writings had been remarkably productive for a first day.

She had met so many wonderful creatures her wildest imagination could not have fathomed, fantastic beings her younger self would have been understandably skeptical about. Marvel and magic beyond what she ever dreamed she would know.

And there they were, as concrete as the notes on the rosy papers. They were real. Belle had _talked to them._ She had walked into their habitats, into their homes. If she didn’t have a record from the day before, any evidence at all, she might have doubted her sanity.

Luckily, she was as lucid as ever. She smiled as she revisited the most notable passages and they immediately transported her to recent memories.

 _Dwarves: social creatures, distinct and varied personalities._ That was an understatement. After all, they were nicknamed after their most salient traits.

 _Fairies: functional community, helpful and nurturing._ She nodded to herself, revisiting the feeling of awe the struck her when she visited the Fairy Forest. If only a portion of the people in the world were just as sweet and kind as the fairies…

 _Witches: competitive assholes—_ Oh. Oh, Belle had forgotten she had ever written that. Okay, maybe some _adjustments_ were necessary; not all notes were eloquently thought out. Belle crossed over the word many times, as if she could see Mary Margaret standing behind her, shaking her head disapprovingly. She apologized under her breath and wrote “ambitious” above it. That should cover it.

She continued, making a mental reminder to be more _professional_ , even in her drafts. She straighten up in her chair.

 _Talking Cricket: highly intelligent with good interpersonal skills._ She grinned; She missed Jiminy already.

 _Mermaid: curious and eager to please._ Again, “curious” what to put it lightly.

_Werewolf:_

Belle stopped. There was nothing written after that, and she promptly recalled why. A mixture of rudeness and bluntness colored the memories in her mind, and she groaned as she remembered the events that followed. From her passive responses to the girl’s aggressive tone, up until she had a door slammed shut on her attempts — that had been a disaster.

She sighed to herself. She wondered if she would be able to repair her first impressions. Both of herself and the girl’s. She wanted to try again, test another approach, breach the layer of confrontation and hostility and maybe make a meaningful connection.

She doubted her chances.

 _But she was a journalist_. She had slept in tents in the dangerous woods of unclaimed territories. She had visited mansions of unstable rich sociopaths. She had bargained with powerful, merciless people and conquered victory. She was experienced, tough, qualified, _professional._ She wouldn’t allow that to affect her. Not a single creature. Not a rude girl.

She would not cower. She would not go home again with another blank page. For the first time, in her many field studies, she faced _no danger_ from the subjects. She was safe, wherever she walked — there was no reason to fear, to back down, to give up.

She closed her notebook with a dull thump. A new energy filled her bones and brought life to her eyes. She would not give up. Belle French did _not_ give up.

She collected her things in her bag and headed out for another day, another adventure.

***

She greeted the guards at the gates and showed them her ID, still proudly pinned to her shirt. They received her with welcoming smiles, wished her a good day at work and opened the gates for her entry.

She drove through the streets — her amazements of the surroundings still lingering with every glance — until she found a parking stop closer to her destinations.

It was not a difficult task, honestly, to find an available, desirable spot. The park was mostly empty.

They had been very careful to justify the deserted areas and the empty blocks in their acceptance e-mail clarifying that, during this time of year, the Park was closed for maintenance, improvements, cleaning and examining.  They had explained quite clearly they allowed  entrance for workings guests only, under a strict screening, for the objective of research and nothing more.

Belle could appreciate their caution. She didn’t mind being alone in the Park, really. It gave her comfortable space to interact with the creatures without much interference, and she was glad to take her time and get accustomed to the place and its peculiarities.

Eventually, though, she would walk by a psychiatrist, a veterinarian or a physician wearing an ID similar to hers, and she would offer them a knowing smile.

She knew _The Private Season_ , as they called it, was reserved mainly to caring for their residents, in any ways they might judge required, and the knowledge of that secured Belle with trust.

They were an organized, respectful group that showed concern for their creatures’ needs. Belle admired their commitment.

After nodding to a familiar face in passing, she reached Gold’s Office.

Knocking twice on the big yellow door, she announced her intrusion before she stepped in. The little bell rang again, and she returned to the pocket universe that was man’s office.

While she waited for him to come meet her, she searched around for any ornament she might had missed the first time. There were so many, she doubted she remembered them all.

Now that she a better grasp of the types of creatures in the Park, she could easily link a symbol to its origin, in an improvised game of associations.

She spotted Jiminy’s tiny clothes again; she recognized a few of the witches’ pointy hats and potion bottles; the painting, she realized, was a picture of Ariel; even a dwarf’s precious pickaxe laid safely stored in a glass box.

Then, once more, the unsettling feeling of eeriness sat deep in her guts, as her eyes landed on the huge wolf’s skin spread on the wall. That certainly wasn’t a normal wolf. No natural wolf would be that massive, with skin large enough to be confused with a bear. _No, that was a werewolf. Dead, skinned and used as decoration._

Chills ran up her arms and down her spine. Zack had _said_ the girl was the only one of her kind, that Gold stablished the Park and she was already the last one.

So, whose skin was that? A silver gray fur, glowing white under fluorescent light. An older specimen? The first of the kind? The creature that came before the girl? The one that bit her? Turned her? Birthed her?

She nested the question in the back of her kind, as her ears picked up the sounds of Gold’s heeled boots as he approached. She averted her attention from the wall and greeted him with a formal smile.

“Good morning, Mister Gold”, she offered.

He nodded back at her, taking a seat in his tall leather chair. “Good morning, Miss French” He smiled, resting her cane by the table, “How did your first sessions go? Are you pleased with our creatures?”

He sounded genuinely curious, and Belle couldn’t mask her delight at the question. “Most definitely! They are all wonderful being with brilliant characters. I’m impressed,” she admitted, feeling herself relax around him. “I had feared they would be mindless and aggressive,” She pointed.

Gold shook his head, “Oh, no. Not all of them are,” he leaned his elbows on his desk, seeming invested in the conversation, “We take good care of them” he assured her, and Belle quickly agreed.

But then, a thought crossed her mind. The one that lodged itself in her brain that morning, while she stared at the blank page. “Mister Gold,” she inquired.

“Yes?”

“What can you tell me about… The Werewolf?” She shifted her weight from foot to foot, hands firm on her bag.

Gold went silent for a second, lips in a thin line and eyes wondering over his desk. He took a deep breath before continuing, “You already met her, uh?” He shot a humored look towards Belle and she nodded, “Well, she is an interesting one. Strong opinions,” he inclined his head to the side, as the arranged his paper. “A bit rude sometimes,” he added in an afterthought.

Belle chuckled, “Very rude”

Gold nodded, his humor still framing his features. “Yes, she… can be a lot. It should be said, her kind has the tendency for strong emotions. Their animal side makes sure that they are as flammable as possible,” he raised his eyebrows and Belle understood the shades of recognition on his face. He spoke from experience.

Belle, however, was a new to all of them, and she couldn’t help the questions that puzzled her.

“She didn’t seem… violent, though,” she said, as images from the day before crossed her mind.

Indeed, the girl had been hostile in her own manner, but despite her tasteless joke, there wasn’t really any _violence_ in her. Not any that Belle could see.

She tried to put her observations into words. “In fact, she just seemed _frustrated”_ Belle settled on the word. Yes, _frustrated_. Maybe that was the best description. Maybe _that_ should be on that blank page.

“Well,” Gold breathed out, mindful of Belle’s considerations, “She _is_ the last of her kind. I can only imagine how stressful that can be. But, what can I say?” He pulled the corners of his mouth tight, shrugging as he dropped his eyes back to his many papers, “I’ve done what was possible to ensure she had the means to pass on her curse. I brought her suitable and selected candidates, increased the pheromones in her habitat, even advised aggression to the volunteers to elicit some response,” he sighed. “Nothing worked”

Belle remained quiet for a moment, while the words gained form in her mind. She could picture the lengths they would go to provide the girl with all the options to preserve her kind.

She _knew_ they had that power. The many doctors and the rigorous screening of their guests was evidence of their heavy responsibility. Still, the extents of that power caught her by surprise.

“Pheromones?” She echoed, “You can do such a thing to temper with their environment?” That was an obvious question and she knew it, but part of her expected the creatures to live more… freely inside their cages, as paradoxical as that thought might had been.

“We have many tools at our disposal to care for our creatures, Miss French” Gold clarified, finally looking up to meet Belle’s questioning gaze. “Unfortunately, it was all in vain. Not even her blood is enough to preserve the curse” He sighed again, a more resigned breath this time, “She is decided on dying as the last werewolf. It’s really a shame”

Belle felt her shoulders tense up at the thought of the girl being so unwilling and opposed that they would resort to drawing her blood — to what all suggested, _against her will._

She bit her lips, brow furrowed. “And why is that? From what I gathered from meeting all the others, they seemed eager to have more like them in the world. Those who lived in community seemed to be the happiest and most developed. And those who lived alone…” She thought of Jiminy and the friendly giant, “They reacted excitedly to the possibility of growing their kind. But the werewolf, a _pack creature, of all…”_

“She’s had some problems, in relation with her nature,” Gold cut her off, but his tone was apologetic, rather than authority. Belle paid close attention to his words. “That’s all I can say, without crossing my limits and affecting your judgment,” he laced his fingers together, shoulders rising as he leaned in his chair, “If you are curious, you can ask her”

Belle felt nervous giggles bubble from her throat. They escaped before she could stop them, “Oh, I don’t think she would respond well…” She reflected, looking at the empty space to her side.

“You don’t need to _fear_ her,” Gold assured, his voice smooth and firm, “She can’t harm you from the cage. The silver bars burn at the slightest touch”

Belle frowned and fought the image that wanted to paint her thoughts, of silver touching the fair skin, “That’s not what I’m worried about”

Gold went quiet, and an amused smiled curved his lips. He breathed out, as he leaned back on the cushions of the chair. “You’re worried she won’t like you,” he deduced.

Belle dropped her head, trying to hide her blush from the light. Gold chuckled, and the sound eased the edges of Belle’s embarrassment.

“Relax,” he waved his hand, “She won’t. She doesn’t really like anyone” Another unaffected shrug slumped his shoulders. “So, there’s nothing to lose”

Belle breathed in, forcing her blushing back into the shadows.

Maybe he was right.

***

The day progressed faster than she anticipated.

She visited all the Habitats she had missed the day before, with remaining time to catch up on her latest annotations.

Now that the Caretakers had already introduced her to the basics of each area, she felt more confident to wander and question, both the residents and their respective watchers. She revised her notes and, while many first impressions were gradually proven incorrect, many still clung to their distant façade when interacting with Belle.

She could understand that, and she wouldn’t ask of those unwilling to show the same availability the more friendly residents so eagerly displayed. She would give them time to warm up to her and what she represented, to _decide_ to trust her and not feel obligated to do so.

Of course, that new careful approach had been a direct result of the most unpleasant interaction in her memory and her determined wishes to not repeat it.

As soon as a resident reacted annoyed or insulted, she quickly apologized and excused herself, moving on to the next Habitat, never pushing too far.

It was not the firmest tactic to deal with them, but Belle liked to believe she had a method to her madness — or, rather, to her lack of it. She believed a friendly atmosphere was far more productive than a unsympathetic one, and she was confident in her decisions.

But, then, came the time to go back to The Werewolf Den.

***

She took deep, calming breaths as she walked under the ark and into the surroundings of the Habitat, notebook and pen safely hidden in her bag, and a serious purpose in her eyes.

Whatever happened, she tried to remind herself of the blank page she stared, so defeated, at that morning. She had sworn not to repeat the same mistake, and she was renewed from her previous interviews. _She could do it._

As she approached the bars, she noticed the cabin lights were off. She knew the sun had yet to set, tinting the sky with a beautiful orange hue, and she wondered if the girl — _Ruby_ , she commanded herself to use her name — was out, enjoying the sunset.

Her eyes searched the many different areas inside the Habitat, until she found the girl sitting under a great and tall tree, comfortably relaxed in its shade.

She circled the edges of the cage, until she could get a better look of her. She seemed peaceful and calm, her fair face focused on the book she held in hands.

Belle’s hope grew brighter, at the sight. _A book! They were her special territory._ She had a chance at a better second impression this time.

She stepped closer again, until she could read the title on the cover. It was worn and old — not much care put into handling the book, but Belle forced herself to forgive that crime —, but she could read the slightly faded name: _Jules Verne._

 _Oh, the Gods were smiling upon her!_ That was it. What was her chance at redemption.

She composed herself from the silly enthusiasm, and called for the girl. She knew she didn’t have to shout to be heard, but Ruby seemed particularly involved in her reading, enough to not have noticed her presence. Either that, or she was ignoring her, but Belle wanted to remain optimistic.

“My favorite is the Mysterious Island,” she said, the warm smile audible in her voice, “I brought it here with me. I can let you borrow it”, Belle waited, trying to tame her nerves.

After a brief silence, Ruby looked up from her the pages, and glanced directly at Belle. _So, she did know she was there._ The exposed shoulders rose and fell, as a sigh blew from her lips.

“Oh, great. You again” Ruby laid the book on the grass and pushed herself off the ground. “And trying to bond,” she continued, walking towards Belle with slow steps, “That’s _original”_

Belle gritted her teeth and rolled her eyes. _She would not go back with another blank page._ Still, she was only human.

She let her mood show in a sarcastic smile, “You are a particularly irritating one, you know that?” She raised her brows, crossing her arms over her chest. “And I’ve met Grumpy”

Ruby kept her face impassive in its monotony as she spoke, “I’m devastated”

Belle huffed, “Would it kill you to be nice?”

Ruby snorted, looking away beyond Belle. “If it did, I might actually try it”, she chuckled a dry laugh, and Belle went silent.

She blinked a few times, trying to process the words. “What do you mean?” She frowned.

Ruby seemed to notice the change in her tone, and the green eyes quickly traveled back to her, the boredom cleared from her face and replaced with thin irritation. “Don’t even _think_ about it. You’re not allowed to know and I’m not obligated to tell you” Her voice was a steel wall.

Belle watched as the fair limbs became tighter in tension, and she shook her head, letting her own irritation dissipate. _Fire with fire was a horrible strategy._

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to” She promised, but Ruby did not waver to dismiss her attempt at kindness.

“Good,” she nodded, stiff, “I don’t want to,” she finished, turning her body away from Belle. She was walking back to her cabin, and Belle felt another failure creeping up on her.

She reached for the air in front of her as she called to the girl. “Wait, wait!” She pleaded, and the agitation came to a still beat when she noticed Ruby had stopped walking.

The girl didn’t look at all thrilled to do so, but she turned back to Belle. “What?”

Belle licked her lips, finding her words, “Why don’t you like owls?” She felt her voice lose its force.

Ruby frowned, the green eyes watching Belle with annoyed confusion. “What?”

“Yesterday,” Belle forced herself to recollect her grace and regain what was left of any dignity. “You said you don’t like owls. Why is that?”

Ruby waited for what felt like an eternity to Belle, just watching her beat and breathe in silence. Finally, she replied, “Because they’re noisy and creepy”

Belle laughed an awkward laugh, swallowing the anxious reaction to the provocation.

She was being too much of an easy target. She demanded herself to do better. _Come on, Belle. You have training for this._ “And… what is your favorite bad movie?”

Ruby, on the other hand, showed little effort to hide her truest response. She groaned, “Gods, you’re persistent!”

Belle replied with the same exasperation. “I have to try, somehow!”

“Can’t you just… I don’t know, _keep going?_ ” Ruby motioned in frustration to the path that led out of the Den. “I’m not going to cooperate, lady. I don’t want to be a sob _or a horror_ story on some pretensions newspaper,” she sighed, frustration fading into fatigue. “Soon, werewolves won’t even matter, okay? My time will run out and people won’t even care if I really existed or not”

Ruby let her hands fall to her sides and, for a moment, Belle saw past her shell of aggression. Something deeper and darker lived there. She weighted her next words carefully.

“Why do you hate it so much?” She asked, her question soft and tempted, “Being… a werewolf?

Ruby stared at her for a moment. Maybe the girl was not expecting Belle to be so resilient this time. She seemed to recognize the kind of tenacity in her.

“Would _you_ like it?” Ruby replied, “Living here?”

Belle looked around the Habitat, its many comforts and possibilities. Then, she looked just beyond it, to the silver bars around it. She frowned, and her answer was sincere, “I don’t know,” she admitted, looking back at Ruby, “I _couldn’t_ know. I’m ordinary. What I’m asking is… why _you_ don’t like it? Being what you are. Is it all about being here?” She tried again, and this time Ruby was quicker to reply.

“What, as if being here isn’t reason enough to hate it?” She took firm steps back towards Belle, the hard tautness still visible in her neck and shoulders. Belle planted her feet, refusing to retreat. “If I were just _ordinary_ , like you, I would have a life beyond these bars. I would—I would read more than the same three books, over and over again —,” She shot her hand to where she sat moments ago, and then composed herself, standing up straight “I would choose what and how to eat, instead of having all my meals made and chosen for me. You know, little details like that: _freedom_ ”

Belle nodded quietly in respect. She could not argue with her. As much as she could, from her own experiences of the world, she _understood_ Ruby. She couldn’t disregard her feelings.

She adopted a softer voice, “Is that why you don’t pass it forward? Why you refuse to bite anyone?”

Ruby shook her head, her face shadowed in some form of repulsion. “Why would I pass this forward? This same fate… That’s selfish”

Belle shrugged, “You can’t know that for sure. Maybe… only _you_ feel like that. Trapped”

Something broke through Ruby’s stern expression and her green eyes glowed with a different light, sharper — more alive. She walked, stirred by a fierce energy, until she was at mere inches from the silver bars, directly in front of Belle. Her height and her strength much more intimidating up close.

Again, Belle urged her trembling bones to stand still.

“Are you serious?” Ruby asked. Her voice so deep and slow, Belle mistook it for a growl. “Are you saying I am choosing to feel trapped? To dare to see _this —_ ,” She gestured around, never relieving her heavy stare from Belle’s pale face, “— as anything but a privilege, but as a prison? Can’t you see what this is? Or are you just as entranced as them, that you overlook the bars? I’m being treated as a _zoo animal!_ We all are!”

She raised her voice and Belle flinched, her shoulders jumping up. Ruby didn’t seem to care.

“If they appear happy and content to you, it’s because they accepted it as their lives, but—but _I refuse_ to be thankful for this hellhole! _Yes, I have plenty of space to run and play and—and roll in the mud and chase my tail, right?”_ She mocked, her canines exposed in a bitter chuckle. “The bars still don’t go away. I still don’t know what lives or exists beyond what I can see, so, yeah, _that’s my choice_ , right? To dare to want more than this. No” She pulled her lips up in a snarl, “I refuse to be treated like an animal”

Ruby’s voice echoed in her skull, long seconds after she stopped herself. Belle could only hear her own thoughts now, screaming senselessly and agitated in her mind.

She gulped. She wanted to say something. Anything.

She _knew_ she couldn’t do much for her; for all that the girl felt and resented, but… she _wanted to._

Belle breathed, feeling her voice shake as it passed her lips. “Don’t you believe you are special and… for that you are, uh, granted special treatment?” As soon as she heard her words back, she cursed herself for giving them voice. _Seriously, Belle?_

Ruby must have thought the same, such was the aversion drawn in her face. “Do you think this is _any_ kind of special? A dog in a farm has more freedom than me! Than all of us! Don’t let the fancy arks and the polite guards fool you”

“I’m not—“ Belle caught herself, keeping her voice down. It wasn’t her place to be upset. “I’m not being fooled; I understand the many dimensions of this place and what it symbolizes, but… You are indeed special, a fantastic existence in an dull and uninteresting world. No other place offers as much—“

“So,” Ruby cut her off, “For you, that’s reason enough to keep us here, in this glorified cages, with these glorified prison guards? Because _we’re special_ and your poor word _is so boring?”_ There was mockery in her words, but her tone and all that surrounded her were nothing but angry. “That’s why we deserve to live like this?”

Belle breathed out, but her lungs felt full. Her anxiety was making her skin fell cold. “The world outside, it’s not without imprisonment, either. And they’re far worse than any habitat will ever be —“

“I am _not_ a prisoner!” Ruby gritted her teeth, a nervous hand running through the long dark hair. “I was born this… way, this _thing._ I did nothing to—,” She stopped herself, much like Belle had before. She took a deep breath, letting her hand fall back to her side. “You see me as a criminal,” Ruby stated.

Belle gasped, “No, I—“

“You think I deserve to be here, simply because of what I am,” She didn’t seem to care for what Belle had to say. “You _actually_ compared this to a prison, and your talk of _being_ _special_ is coded for, _we are dangerous_. That’s all I need to know from you, okay?” She chuckled without a sound, “And you want to write a story that will _improve_ my life? Well, I’ve lost all hope, then”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Belle demanded to be heard, turning her hands to fists in front of her, “I don’t want to offend you, I meant —,”

“You did,” Ruby curved up her lips, her voice again turning low and rumbling, “You did and you’re just like the others” The green eyes were set on Belle, like they burned her skin, “First, trying and kind; then, judgmental and arrogant. It’s not even _fun_ anymore, indulging you guests. You’re all the same”

“I’m not!” Belle swore. The coldness of her fears turning hotter and hotter, into boiling frustration. “I mean well. I am trying to _help you_. I want to treat you respectfully, but you’re resistance and rudeness— it’s infuriating!” She couldn’t stop her voice from raising, unwavering and unbending.

Ruby watched her with care, as the tension in her frown relaxed and fell into a curious gaze, even if masked in annoyance.

“I can’t say anything right,” Belle continued, “I’m always either predictable or terrible. I can’t please you!”

Ruby scoffed, “Why do you _want_ to? I’m just a study, a research object”

“That’s how you’re reacting!” Belle stressed, “You’re behaving like I’m poking with a scalpel, when I’m only just trying to know you”

“That’s how you’re disguising it, but I know this is just that” Ruby’s energy was back to apathy, shoulders down and hands flaccid by her sides. The exhaustion was taking the best of her. She sighed, “Your interest in me, as a person, is as shallow as that”

Belle frowned, trying to keep her own erratic energy under control. She shook her head, “How can you know that?”

Ruby looked her down before averting her eyes to the side, in the short distance. “That’s all people like you ever do. Befriend me, offer me things, act nice and respectful and, as soon as you get what you want, you disappear. Next thing I know, I’m another species to be considered in some psychology magazine” She brought her attention back to Belle, and this time her eyes carried with unequivocal disgust. “There’s no use in pretending this time is going to be any different”

Belle stood her ground as Ruby looked down on her.

She knew the girl was painting her in the most horrible light, with her most resentful experiences, and something deep inside Belle decided to accept that.

Ruby was unreachable, in all her distance, her denial and her dislike. There was very little Belle could do to change her mind. At least today, she would have to accept her defeat and walk back with another blank page.

 _Lose a battle, win the war_ , Belle told herself.

“You know what?” Belle rolled her shoulder back and corrected her posture, shaking off her skin all that wanted to hold her down. “You’re right. I won’t even write about you,” She conceded, and, for a moment, the slight honest reaction on Ruby’s face was enough of a victory.

The girl recoiled in confusion, eyebrows raised in silent question.

Belle continued, “There’s no need to. There is nothing I can write that someone hasn’t written before. And, like you said, you are the last of your kind” She watched Ruby with the same intensity she had held her own repulsed gaze. “You will be dissected properly later, so why bother? An unoriginal piece about an unwilling participant is not worth all the stress”

Belle mimicked Ruby’s trick, and let the silence speak for itself.

She watched, secretly amused behind her own stern expression, as Ruby’s hostility flickered and faded into weirded confusion. The green eyes didn’t convey the same strength as before, and, now, roamed Belle’s face in search of a tell, of a weakness.

She pressed her lips together, locking her jaw. “That’s nice,” she nodded, unconvincingly. “Go on, now. I’m sure Ariel will be worth it”

Ruby turned her body back to her cabin, getting ready to leave; have the final say, slam the door again — anything to leave a bigger impact than _that_ dazed expression. Belle wouldn’t allow it.

“I don’t want to,” She told the girl, “You may be a hard one to like but, now, I kind of want to push it. I want to see how far this goes. If you can be this stubborn all the time, even when I’m doing nothing but _being here._ I want to see if you can be this irrationally opposed to be, for no reason at all”

Ruby rolled her eyes, looking over her shoulder. “So, I _am_ an experiment, after all”

“No,” Belle marched away, “You’re just an asshole”

And, for once, the dramatic exit was hers.

Stomping away on the long path, she didn’t dare slow down her stubborn momentum, and continued until she could not be seen. She just _wished_ Ruby felt the same mixture of shame and anger she had left Belle to dwell in the day before.

 _Another blank page_ , she reminded herself.

A satisfied smiled slowly won over her, illuminating her face. _In the end, it’s the little victories that count._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much for the feedback!

The night in Storybrooke was quiet and the dark sky highlighted with stars. The noises of crickets, owls and the gentle summer wind filled the air. Once or twice, she would hear a car drive by and illuminate the ceiling of her room with its yellow headlights. 

She gazed at the long shadows, listening to Mary Margaret’s voice on the other end of the call.

She lied in bed, nodding along her friend’s fast-paced rhythm. When Mary finally took a second to breathe, Belle jumped on the opportunity to reply.

“You have no idea!” She gesticulated with anxious movements above her body, “Most of them are very generous and curious. They want to know me almost as much as I want to know them,” she told her friend.

They had been talking for hours now. With practical, equality divided speaking time, they covered their ongoing projects, Killian’s tireless concerns and Gold’s debatable taste for office decoration.

Belle had promptly enlightened Mary Margaret on the magic and magnitude of the Park, using her rarest adjectives to accurately convey all that she felt when she stepped foot on their grounds for the first time. After a few sincere gasps and jealous groans from Mary Margaret, she felt like she had given her friend a very reliable image.

Belle was happy to just continue describing every wonder of every habitat, but, at one point, Mary Margaret had made the well-intentioned mistake to ask about her interviews.

So, now, there was Belle, twenty minutes into a passionate, uninterrupted rambling.

“Jiminy is lovely and we talk about so many different things”, she continued, “I never knew I would find someone so similar to share insights on my old readings, and, Mary, I think he’s read more book than I ever will. It’s amazing!”

She remembered the tiny cricked fondly, pausing to catch her breath. As soon as she was able to talk again, she did. Mary Margaret never got a chance to interject.

“Grumpy can be awfully funny and Anton is the sweetest person I’ve ever met! Even the witches can be civil from time to time, you just have to be patient,” she laughed. As her smiled faded, her tone changed. Sighing deeply, Belle felt her excitement be replaced with something else. The memory in her mind not so friendly. “But this one werewolf…” She mumbled.

The theatrical pause had been long enough for Mary Margaret accept the invitation to finally reply. “What about them?”

Belle puffed, “She’s terrible! She is so resistant to everything! She doesn’t want to talk, doesn’t want to listen,” She thought back to their last interactions, one as disastrous as the other. “It’s like she’s a teenage girl, and I’m… her new stepdad”

Mary Margaret’s giggles sounded through the static. “I’m sorry,” The woman sighed, trying to hide the smile in her voice, “I know how excited you were to meet one. It’s a shame she didn’t reciprocate the feeling”

Belle shook her head, following the invisible lines on the ceiling, “And I can’t even blame it entirely on her, you know?” She let her hand fall to the mattress, toying with the folds on the blanket, “I understand her frustration. She is the last one, she lives there, alone, in that… _cage._ They feed her raw meat despite her protests and they have this button to _ring her out;_ which, I mean, is barbaric” she felt her hands grip the folds in between her fingers — she could still see the pained expression on the girl’s face, as she recalled the couple days.

Mary Margaret hummed curiously on the other side, “I’ve read some of the articles about her,” she said, and Belle could distinguish the sound of clicking and tapping underneath her voice.

She figured Mary was still in the office, revising their project. They had much in common, the two. Midnight, and both refusing to leave their work behind.

 “Anastasia even wrote one about her… what was it? Her sexuality” Mary recalled, and her tone changed into her special shade of bothered, “It was a hard piece to read, for many different reasons. They compared them — uh, the werewolf — to an ape. Then, a lion. Then, a teenage boy. It was awful. I can understand why someone would be resentful of writers after having something like that published about their intimacy”

Belle grunted audibly. _Ugh, she remembered that appalling article._

What infuriated her the most about Anastasia’s perspective — apart from her total lack of integrity and respect — was that the section about the creatures’ sexuality wasn’t even the worst of her work. It was superficial and tasteless, but the woman had managed to write even worse things.

Belle recalled very clearly how Anastasia’s team, along with many others of similar awfulness, had strongly promoted the passive extinction of the residents.  Their words were still stained in her mind.

_“Let them rot”_ They had requested, at the end of a long open letter.

Belle knew, then, she wanted to write something to rival it, to show them compassion and humanity. If The Author wouldn’t do it, no other team would.

They had sworn they would stand for the creatures who could never defend themselves. That was what drove them there. That was what brought Belle to Storybrooke, Room 204.

She forced the anger back into the distant memory, in a corner of her mind. Now, she had to be clear-headed, rational. The revolt served as powerful motivation, but now she had to act with care and patience.

She wanted to figure how to proceed, and talking to Mary Margaret always did wonders to calm her nerves.

Belle sighed, “That’s why I can’t fight her view on this. I mean, wouldn’t _you_ act the same, if you read something so despicable about you, published for the whole world to see?” She curved her lips in disgust just imagining such a thing, “To see yourself paraded and debated like an exotic animal?”

Belle rubbed her temples. The more she listened to herself talk — the more she gave voice to her formless thoughts —, the better she could understand her own stance. She was angry, too, that was certain, but her anger was mere dull if compared to Ruby’s.

“I’m…” Belle tried to elaborate, “I’m trying to make her see that I don’t want to be just one more. That I want to make a difference. I want to treat them all better. But…” her voice lowered and faded until she felt all of her most defined reasons slip though her. “But with her, I’m starting to doubt it,” she breathed, and maybe that was the only thing left in her, while all else escaped; doubt. “To doubt _us”_

It felt reckless to admit it.

She knew she should be steady, strict and, above all, professional — focused on their goal. She knew she had been assigned an important job and people were counting on her to complete it honorably and with all her might, but… she _wavered_.

And she wondered if _that_ was part of it — of what they expected of her.

To doubt.

Maybe, it was so. Maybe, any other person would be unyielding, unchanging. Maybe Belle, questioning and flexible, was what they wanted for the job. They wanted _humanness,_ right? What could be more human than being moved and contaminated by another person’s feelings and perspectives; feeling empathy? That was _human_ , in its essence.

At least, she hoped so. She would feel less guilty, less of a failure, if only they assured her that. That it was okay to doubt.

After a long moment, Mary Margaret replied, “How do you mean?”

Belle breathed in. She had already said it, there was no use pretending she felt any other way.

“I guess… What I’m wondering is…” She weighted her words. She trusted Mary Margaret enough to allow herself some vulnerability, but she wanted to preserve some of her strength. At least for now. “Aren’t we doing the same? Aren’t we treating them like exotic animals? To be studied and poked and written about in magazines? We’re not writing about their sexualities, but we’re… looking for the _normal_ in them, to try and turn it extraordinary. Isn’t that flawed of us?” Letting her chest fall, she turned on her side and rested her head on her hands. “Are we doing them a service or are we just exploiting them, like everyone else?”

Silence rang in the static, and Belle waited nervously for Mary’s response.

Mary Margaret was Belle’s friend, first and foremost, and she would never abuse of her authority to win an argument. Mary Margaret was a safe place for Belle.

But, even then, her nerves wouldn’t cooperate.

Finally, she heard some movement on the other end, and Mary Margaret spoke, “Is that how you feel?” she sounded sympathetic.

“I’m starting to!” Belle confessed, her hands rubbing circles on the back of her head, “And it’s maddening, because, when I talk to any other of them, they seem honestly happy! All their habitats fulfill their needs. They have everything they could possibly want there. Food, medical attention, counseling, even _help groups”_ Once more, her voice fell at the girl’s memory. “But when I talk to her, I being to doubt it all. And I wonder if the others are lying”

“They are _free_ inside their cages, is what I see,” Mary sounded concerned. “They get to do what they want and how they want, but, at the end of the day, they can’t leave” she considered, “Maybe this thought is too much for a werewolf”

Belle nodded. Her chest was heavy again.

“Maybe it is,” she gazed at nothing, and flashes of the girl’s green eyes colored the empty space in front of her. “And there’s nothing I can say that will change her mind or… ease her anger. She is just… resigned to this frustration, all the time” she remembered seeing the cracks in the girl’s façade, and the melancholy that lurked just beneath it. “It’s sad to watch”

Mary seemed to respect Belle’s tone. Her reply was soft, “Why don’t you skip her habitat altogether? Don’t write about her, don’t interview her again”

The suggestion lifted a weak smile on Belle’s features.

“I said I wouldn’t, I was trying to get her to open up to me” Belle explained, “But it didn’t work. She doesn’t trust me”, she looked around in her room, “But when I get back from the Park, I sit here and I think to myself _‘Belle, what are you doing? Your whole goal here is to give them voice, get to know the depths of their humanness, so how can you think about ignoring the most vocal and human of them all?’_ ” She let her head fall down and her hand hit the mattress again, a dramatic sigh escaping her lips. “This is driving me insane!”

“Oh,” Mary Margaret couldn’t help a laugh that was one part amused, two parts compassionate. “I know this is heavy on you. But it’s better that way”, she offered, “If this girl is so upfront about her feelings and her rights, it could be productive to tune her out”

Belle groaned a noise of disagreement, and Mary Margaret insisted.

“Hear me out. I know this sound counterintuitive, but it works” she explained, the sound of the keyboard getting loud in the background, “It adjusts the balance between emotional appeal and factual argument. As much as we care about them, we can’t have this turn into a sentimental piece about their wounded feelings. That was Genius Magazine’s mistake”

The name sparkled the vague memories in Belle’s mind.

She remembered their nights of many discussions, at the beginning of constructing the project. When Genius’s issue was all over the news and this was brought to their table, they exhausted hours debating what they nicknamed the _Jasmine Fiasco:_ The error of emotions over facts.

That all felt uncomfortably familiar now.

“They asked for people to rally in revolt; for people to pity the creatures, and the poor girl that wrote the piece faced some terrible backlash,” Mary Margaret continued, and Belle nodded along as all their past conversations replayed in her brain. “We don’t want a _Belle Fiasco_. We need to be careful this time”

Belle felt her body urging to give in and fall flat on the mattress. _This was stressful!_

All she wanted was to do a good job. To make a difference.

“We need something cold-hearted, but kind, if that’s possible. Scientific, but… _human_ ” Mary Margaret finished, and Belle rolled onto her back, defeated.

She groaned her frustrations, “I’m beginning to understand why none of you opposed me being the one to do this”

Mary Margaret chuckled what sounded like an apology, “It _is_ the hard work. Nobody is better at it than you”

Belle couldn’t help her annoyed smile. _Sure, Mary would never use her authority to win an argument, but she certainly didn’t shy away from excessive flattery._

“You’re the worst,” she joked, and Mary replied with a laugh.

A moment passed, and the silence turned serious again. The sounds on the other end stopped, and Belle already anticipated Mary Margaret’s next words. _Unwanted advice was coming her way._

“You will probably hate that I’m even suggesting this, but… Would you prefer it if I sent Killian to interview her? Just her. You get to continue your work —”

Belle was livid now, her body shocked back to life in protest, “Not a chance!” She argued, “And make him think that he was right? That a resident got to me and messed with me head? Never!” She slapped the mattress again, “I will go insane here by myself, thank you very much”

Mary Margaret chuckled, but offered no rebuttal. She, too, shared Belle’s opinions on Killian.

Belle breathed in and out one more time. _It was getting late._ Their call had extended beyond what her body could take of the nocturnal life. She wanted silence back. She wanted rest. A quiet mind.

“I’m sorry I’m bothering you with this,” Belle sighed, “Everything else is going great, I swear, it’s that her habitat is one of the last I visit before coming back and she just —” she rubbed her forehead, “— sticks in my head.

“I know,” Mary Margaret comforted her, “Stay strong. I’m sure the work you’re doing with the others will prove to her that you were true and you mean well. Let time convince her”

Belle chuckled a dry sound. She didn’t believe that to be possible. If the girl had one thing, it was time, and that didn’t seem to be doing her any good.

“I guess,” Belle resigned, “Maybe, yeah” she dropped her head to her pillow.

“It is getting late,” Mary Margaret seemed to hear the yawn Belle wanted to fight, “Go get some rest now. You still have two months to go”

Belle frowned, “I hope I survive it”

“You will,” Mary Margaret laughed, “Good night, Belle”

“Good night, Mary Margaret,” she ended the call and dropped the phone to her side, her arm promptly protesting the prolonged position.

The air left her lungs in a long exhale, and Belle wished all of her thoughts would leave her body and allow her some rest.

She stared at the shadows, imagining angry green eyes, until the quiet night swayed her to sleep. 

***

The talk with Mary Margaret the night before still lingered in her mind, as she went through her usual route in the Park.

The persistent feeling in her gut insisted on growing stronger, every time she walked from habitat to habitat. She started paying close attention to the varying ways the security of every place was enforced; to how each creature was prevented from escaping.

Some had bars, others had glass wall, others were deep inside cages with only one way out. All, in their particular way, intensively controlled. _All the cages, designed to keep the specific kind in, invulnerable and inescapable to their capacities_ , Gold’s voice echoed in her mind.

They were acutely aware of the specific weaknesses of their creatures, enough to mold it into a containment measure. From the leather cuffs that prevented the gift of the magic users, to the high-pitched frequencies that rendered most aggressive creatures useless, they were all submitted to their environments.

There was no way a creature could escape it, and Belle started wondering if one ever tried. If one had even been brave or desperate enough to defy their cages and test their resistance.

To wish for freedom.

She couldn’t shove the thought completely away from her mind, even as she persisted to focus on her scripted questions for the day. So, overpowered by the idea, she decided to embrace it.

The desire for freedom was a noble _human_ one. The residents had their right to express it.

Belle believed it would be a matter of respect to offer all the others the same opportunity Ruby had demanded for herself — the right to protest.

Polishing her new strategy for the day, she turned to a blank page on her notebook, and prepared from the new tactic.

To those who could understand the complexity of her question, she asked about freedom and their views on it.

She _knew_ it could be dangerous to do so — to trigger such a deep, forbidden desire — under their Caretakers’ watch, but there would never be a better time. And, perhaps, the topic of about freedom was meant for situations like these, where it was dangerous to indulge it.

Belle firmly believed they were owed the right to speak their mind, no matter how unpleasant or rebellious that might be.

However, the responses she received only served to weaken her hopes of promoting something great. Something unseen.

To her surprise, not all thought so highly of such desire.

Each in their own way showed confusion over the very concept of freedom. Most required long minutes to formulate their best answer.

The dwarves shrugged at the question.

Grumpy mumbled about how freedom was overrated. “Dwarves were born to work. It’s what we do, Sis. And I’m not complaining, really. I don’t think actually working at a mine would buy that much beer, so, hey, I’m winning”

Belle frowned at the reply. The other dwarves seemed to nod and whispers their agreements. And even as she insisted, none of them gave a different answer. Disappointed, she wrote down her notes and moved along.

When she asked the fairies, Blue was quick to explain their stance.

“We _are_ free, darling. We have a forest just for us, no wishes to grant, no order to obey. We are a happy, satisfied colony,” she gestured around, “This glass dome is not a cage, it’s a frontier, one we don’t want to cross, even if we could. This world, in here, is safe of us. If you ask me, freedom is living the life you want, without fear. That’s what we are able to do here”

Belle had expected that answer to enlighten her, comfort her, or fill her with admiration for the joyful optimism of the fairy kind — instead, she felt disheartened.

She continued, unwilling to close her notebook just yet. _Surely, someone would share the same stance as Ruby, right? Surely someone felt the same._

Desperate to reignite her hopes, she dared to go further, into The Witches District.

If any creature would be half as frustrated as Ruby, it would be them. They would not hide behind polite masks and gracious answers. They would be brutally honest. And brutal honesty was what Belle was looking for.

But as she reached the last house of the street, her resolve had almost dissolved into the grayest of moods.

Up until then, the majority of the witches’ response had been a combination of the fairies’ denial and the dwarves’ acceptance. Belle felt distressed.

Quickly enough, the desperation subdued her fear of the two sisters, and she walked into their homes and posed the dreaded question.

After a long moment of thought, she got her first answer.

“Freedom, uh?” Regina, the younger of the two, had considered. Brow furred and red, scarred lips in a tight line.  “Interesting, no guest before cared to ask that, I’m almost unsure how to answer”

The brown eyes searched the floor for the right words, while the tips of her fingers brushed the locks of her behind her ear. When she finally looked back at Belle, her face a stern mask.

“If you’re looking for acceptance, you’ll hardly find it here. We are _not_ free and we know it, but,” A shaky breath escaped her lips, and Regina held her body with her hands, arms crossed over her stomach. “But there are a set of circumstances at play that can’t be battled for long. Inevitably, the reality that surrounds you will… swallow you up, and you will remain there, trying to find life in what’s left of you”

Regina’s hardened voice still resounded in their kitchen when Zelena interrupted with a scoff.

“That’s awfully dramatic,” The older sister replied, poring herself a drink on the far corner of the stone counter.

Of the two, Zelena was the rudest and most opposed to Belle. She did little effort to be polite and at every change she got, she would make fun of the girl’s sincere, but terrified attempts.

This time, however, she decided to join the discussion, with an involvement that caught Belle utterly unprepared. She didn’t expect to hear actual words from Zelena, only sarcastic grunts and coughs. At her answer, Belle’s body shot into attention.

“We’re not _that_ miserable”, Zelena frowned in disbelief, “We have plenty to live satisfied, and if we ever grow tired of this scenery, we can just —,” she clicked her fingers, and, suddenly, the kitchen that surrounded them was engulfed in green smoke, replaced with a beautiful forest.

A small waterfall cascaded where there once was a sink, and the chirps of birds and croaks of frogs took the place of the ticking clock on the wall.

Belle looked around herself, stunned by the powerful magic. _All looked so beautiful._

Engrossed by the new reality, she reached down to touch the wet rocks beneath her feet. At the contact, she could feel the coldness on her fingertips, rising to her palm and wrist. _That was amazing._

“We can travel anywhere we want, whenever we want. Of course,” Zelena gestured to Belle’s hand, and Belle turned her palm to inspect the feeling on her skin. Despite the perfect sensation of wetness, her hand was dry. “ _this is not real”_

Zelena grinned at Belle’s immediate confusion, and clicked her fingers one more time, returning the kitchen to its normal state in a rapid swirl of green clouds.

“But we can fool ourselves”, the witch shrugged, “Legend says the world outside is not that different”

“But…” Belle blinked back to where they were, trying to shake the feeling of deceit from her mind, “Don’t you feel trapped?” She glanced at Regina.

The sister, however, remained silent. Again, Zelena spoke.

“We _can_ step outside and meet the other witches. Of course, now _they’ve_ decided to strap us with those ugly leather cuffs to prevent another baking incident”, Zelena glanced out the tall window, “We have no magic to use outside our homes, so it’s a choice to get back inside. Those hags are terrible company, anyway”

Belle reflected on Zelena’s words, seeded in her brain, long before she had walked away from the District.

They carried some truth, but they were pertinent only to the kind of person Zelena was. Belle couldn’t be that foolish — or hopeful — to apply the same to all of them. Even her own sister seemed to disagree in an essential level.

Regina didn’t share the same perspective on their world and their selective freedom. There was a different atmosphere around her as Belle approached the topic and she couldn’t remove from her mind the image of the woman, thoughtful and troubled. Regina obviously didn’t feel free.

But, similar to what she had sensed in Ruby, there was a another component to her reserve, heavy and dark, something Belle couldn’t yet grasp or put into words. It existed inseparably from Regina; from Ruby. Maybe their concerns, too, were deeply seeded in who they were as people; and their sentiment of repression was a reflection of themselves. _Maybe._

Belle knew the witch shared Ruby’s frustrations. _Why_ she didn’t voice them like the girl, that was another question.

But she found the slightest comfort in that. In knowing Ruby, somehow, wasn’t all alone in her anger.

Her true last hope for a clear statement, she concluded, was Jiminy.

She knew the cricket would be his most eloquent in explaining his perspective and that was a language Belle understood quite well. However, she sensed he wouldn’t offer much of an opposition. As intelligent as Jiminy was, he didn’t seem to carry that particular concern.

Nevertheless, she carried on. She presented him the question.

“Freedom, as I see it, is a happy illusion” Jiminy had hopped from his balcony to this porch as he elaborated, “A man’s freedom is limited by his own capacities and by how the world around him allows his actions to ripple. To live free to be miserable,” he continued, his tiny finger scratching his tiny antennae, “left to your own devices, is not a great freedom. Neither it is, to live freely to be abused and persecuted by _other people’s_ freedom,” he dropped his shoulders, his head turning down as he fidgeted with the edges of this clothing.

Belle watched, as Jiminy looked around his habitat and his words turned from formal to personal. When he finally continued, he was no longer discussing an idea, but admitting a feeling.

“A tiny, odd creature like me would not see a joyful freedom in the world promised outside this park” he gestured around, “I would be free to be crushed, studied, tortured — that’s not the freedom I want for myself. Instead, I find freedom inside this house of mine”, he turned around and skipped to his personal library. Belle followed attentively from the outside. “For example, I can choose what book to read next. I can choose what clothes to wear, which documentaries to watch and how to interpret and express my understanding of those in my writing, my composing, my poetry. My mind, you see, is _free_ ”

Belle bit her lip. She couldn’t disagree with the kind of freedom Jiminy had carved for himself.

Belle, of all people, could understand the feeling of searching for liberty of thought and freedom of mind in the pages of a book, in the words of other poets, thinkers, storytellers. It was the kind of freedom she would never be stripped from — her own mind and imagination.

She understood the comfort Jiminy had found for himself.

“I am free to do those things, while this _cage_ , as you see it, shelters me from a world that is not very welcoming of my freedom… _to exist_ ” he shrugged and finally looked at Belle, “Well, that’s how _I_ see it” Jiminy nodded at the end of his words and Belle couldn’t find the voice to respond.

Yes, she understood Jiminy. She understood the power of the untamed, unshackled mind.

But she was never, truly, deprived of so much. Never did her parents, as strict and controlling as they were, try to keep her from the world outside. They were overprotective, but they had expressed that through constant advice, overbearing conversations and some awkward interventions. She never had bars in her bedroom windows or guards at her door.

The freedom she had found in her reading and writing was out of passion, not… desperation.

She wondered if that made any difference.

***

She expected something, _anything._

She expected rage and indignation. She expected rebellion and cries for justice. She expected any kind of fervent reaction from them, and she was surprised to find they had all find security — some kind of autonomy — inside their cages.

And she thought back at the girl, and _her rage and rebellion,_ and she wondered why she was any different.

True to her word, Belle decided not to bother Ruby this time. She believed it was best to leave her alone for now and gather some time to herself to think and refine her thoughts on the others’ responses, before pressing Ruby further with more questions.

Belle didn’t want to do things impulsively. Not this time. She had already cursed in her notes, and _to a resident’s face._ She had to contain herself and behave better, if she wanted any presentable result.

As she strode down the path by the Werewolf Den, she couldn’t keep herself from glancing at the habitat, looking for where Ruby might be. It was only instinctive, now.

And there Ruby laid on the grass, on the same spot she had chosen the day before, eyes closed, soft breathing, _napping._

Belle noted how calm she looked in her sleep, and how at home she seemed to be, slumbering outdoors, on the ground, under a tree.

It was probably a regular occurrence, Belle thought. Why wouldn’t a werewolf be accustomed to sleeping on the grounds of a forest? Nothing odd about it.

Although it was, somehow, adorable to witness it — the blurred lines between two distinct parts, human and wolf. There was something fascinating about it, to see how a dual identity merged its parts into one. It was, somehow, _enviable_ , too. It made Belle wish she was anything more than her dull self.

She smiled at her feet and continued walking.

Finally, she reached _Ariel’s Aquarium_. Or, at least, that was how they had elected to call the beach portion the long, _long_ Mermaid Habitat.

It was an immense aquarium, many feet above the ground, and some many more under it, extending far in the distance, secured by clear, strong glass. All kinds of sea creatures, rocks, caverns and colorful vegetation adorned the submerged domain.

Eric, the Caretaker, had explained to her on the first day, why they chose to name it after Ariel. With a warm smile on his face, he described how she was the only mermaid that actually preferred swimming in the aboveground sections of the Aquarium. So much so, she would even sometimes sit at the dry rocks on the lovely artificial beach, greeting all that passed by the edge, on the outside path.

He commented on how eager Ariel was to meet new people, learn new things and experience new adventures and Belle saw a lot of herself in the friendly, enthusiastic mermaid.

They had talked for long hours, the day Belle first visited the Park.

Far on the edges of the territory, Ariel was one of the last creatures to visit, according to the suggested route on the map. That usually allowed Belle to talk to her for much longer than the others, without any time limit to hurry them through topics.

She enjoyed going off script with Ariel. As soon as she ran out of her questions for the day, they would start talking about Ariel’s interests, which were, _precisely_ : everything and anything. They would go hours into the dawn discussing frivolous things. It was delightful and it did wonders to take Belle’s mind off any stress.

On that day, Belle dared and asked Ariel about freedom.

Ariel explained, much to Belle’s surprise, that that was something she earned for, _naturally_.

“My home is vast and all my brothers and sisters keep me company, so I can’t complain about feeling alone or… trapped, but,” she stared at a light on the long brick road, as it glowed alive into the night, “I don’t know, I wonder about the world outside. And by that I mean, the dry world”

Ariel ran her fingers on the sand of the small beach, gently swaying her long tail in the water.

“I am limited to live in the water” she said, “I can’t survive on the dry land, that’s how my body works, so I guess that’s how my freedom is limited,” she looked up from the circles she had drawn on the sand and smiled at Belle’s worried frown, “Don’t worry, though! That’s as natural as anything else! You, with your, uh…” She pointed to Belle’s legs, “How do you call them?”

Belle chuckled. _“Feet”_

“Yes, _feet,”_ Ariel nodded with a smile. “With something like that, you can’t survive for long in here. You can’t know what lives deep inside this aquarium or at the bottom of your oceans. That’s how _your_ biology works,” she shrugged, “The same way neither of us will know what is feels like to _fly_. Even to those who live outside, like you, there are limits to what you can experience, and that is something you have to come to terms with, if you want to be happy. I wished I had accepted that when I was younger. It would have saved my sisters a lot of late-night interventions,” She giggled.

Belle laughed along, but eventually let her smile resume to a sigh.

Ariel had a point. Perhaps that was what Jiminy had meant with “one’s capacities”. Indeed, they all functioned very differently and it was natural to accept their body’s essential limitations. Jiminy’s words were clearer to her now. _You shouldn’t earn for something you’re not built to survive._

Belle sighed. She hadn’t considered that, up until then; That some creatures just didn’t _need_ to yearn for the world outside — the human world —, as some of them just _wouldn’t_ survive it.

_Or fit in._

Again, her tempted mind wandered back to the Den.

_Ruby_ _could fit in if she tried,_ Belle thought.

If it weren’t for the bold letters announcing WEREWOLF on the huge plaque by the path, she would have never suspected the girl. She looked human. She could blend in the human world.

Survive. _Thrive._

“But, why do you ask?” Ariel called back to the present. “That is a very different question from those you asked before”

“Oh,” Belle shook her head to disperse the thought and adjusted the weight of her bag on her shoulder.  “Something Ruby said, yesterday, stayed with me. And I wanted another perspective on the matter, I guess”

“Did you talk to her again?” Ariel dropped her head to the side, the wet red hair falling over her shoulder. “I overheard Zack and Eric talking about how you walked away, quite upset the other day,” She asked, and Belle palmed her face to hide her embarrassment.

“Yeah, we… had an argument, I guess” she sighed a mumble against her palm, “But I haven’t had the chance to talk to her yet”, she nodded vaguely in the direction of the Den, “She was asleep when I walked past her place”

“Oh, yeah” Ariel pressed her lips. “Ruby likes to save her energy before the full moon” The mermaid pushed her body off the shore and back into the water, until the gentle waves hit her shoulders. Slowly, her breathing became smoother and the color returned to her cheeks. “It’s a tiring time for her”

Belle stood up right. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” Ariel circled her arms underwater, “Can you imagine, turning into a wolf twice your size and running until you can’t stand? Sometimes she runs until she comes back bleeding! That takes a toll…”

Belle winced and frowned at the image that formed in her mind.

She tried to visualize such a thing. The same girl she saw so calmly asleep under a tree, running until she reached her limits, aggressive and rough. The other extreme of her duality — it was a thought she didn’t want to entertain.

“Do you talk to her a lot?” Belle asked.

Ariel reacted with careful silence. Slowly, what seemed like a sad frown consumed her light features. “Not so much anymore”

Ariel followed Belle’s eyes into the distance, where she could see the Den, close to the edges of her aquarium. They had always lived close to one another, and since Ariel was the only mermaid that preferred the beach, she had formed a bond with Ruby. The proximity had made them friends in a way, but now…

Ariel shook her head, coming back from gray memories. “She’s more closed off now” She confessed, “Which I feel bad about, because she could be a lot of fun. Her place is almost as long as the aquarium and, there —”

Ariel lifted her hand above the water to point to an empty track in the limits of Ruby’s habitat. Belle raised her eyebrows, in slight curiosity upon noticing the faint white lines and numerical marks on the clean path. _A running track. For humans._

“Her running track,” Ariel continued, seeming to have forced her smiled back on her face “Around this time, we used to bet on who was faster, so we raced. I win when she’s on two legs and lose when she’s on four. It’s predictable, but fun” Ariel shrugged and Belle saw the colors of nostalgia framing her face.

She curved her lips in a sympathetic smile, and watched as the silence gradually brought Ariel back to the present, to not so colorful times. There was something there, dividing the two times. Something to wipe off Ariel’s iconic grin from her face.

“And what happened?” Belle inquired. “Is it because of my arrival that she’s distant?” She dreaded to know, but she had to ask.

Ariel waited for a moment, finally averting her eyes back to her own habitat. She glanced to the water reflecting the moonlight in its small waves. She sighed deeply, “No, she’s… been like this before you got here” Ariel explained, “It happened a few months ago. And I guess that’s why she’s…”

The mermaid let her voice disappear under the sound of the water climbing on the sand. Belle broke the strange quietude. “What happened?”

Ariel’s head shot up. She stared at Belle with confused eyes. “She didn’t tell you?”

Belle huffed, “She doesn’t tell me anything,” She looked down at her hands.

“I don’t know…” Ariel breathed out, “It’s not something I can tell. Maybe you should ask her that? She and I are friends —,” She stumbled with her words, “or we _were_ , before… — I don’t want to cross any lines here”

Belle watched her in silence. The girl was flushed and nervous and struggling to explain herself. Belle knew Ariel just wanted to be as helpful as possible, without jeopardizing her friendship with Ruby.

“I understand,” She nodded, trying to calm Ariel down from her struggle. “That’s kind of you. I’ll ask her, if I get the chance,” Belle tried not to let her eyes wander to the Den another time. With a deep breath, she straightened her posture. “For now, my time is yours,” she announced. “What do you want to do?”

Upon Belle’s question, Ariel’s face quickly turned from her frown, curving her lips into to the most beautiful smile Belle had ever seen.

The mermaid splashed her hands on the surface of the water and wagged her tail, “Oh! I want to show you my collection!” Ariel giggled, and submerged to gather her things.

Belle waited patiently for her return, but the cheerful mask she had forged was slowly wearing off.

Defeated, her eyes were drawn to the Den once more.

Under the light of the crescent moon, in the distance, she could still see Ruby’s silhouette, asleep under the tree.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for the feedback again. Hope you enjoy it.

The days had continued on despite Belle’s growing concerns.

Over the course of the many weeks, she had developed a fast and functional system for waking up, getting ready and heading to work.

After the first week, she allowed her alarm clock to do its job and wake her up at the break of dawn with the repetitive beeping and ringing. Increasingly accustomed with her hotel room, she was finally able to reach for the exact blouse and the exact skirt without having to fumble through identical drawers and stuffed bags to find it. She learned which switch turned on which light and how to adjust the shower to get the perfect warm-not-too-warm water.

She had mastered her surroundings, like the true adventurer she was.

Gradually, she stopped confining herself and her work to Room 204. Most days, she would walk down the stairs and enjoy the solitude of the large hotel. Sitting at the quiet common area and sipping her cup of tea, she would polish the last of her writings.

She was impressed with how much she had managed to write.

The many interviews with the many creatures had seemed like a daunting challenge at first, but now that she was a frequent presence in the park, most residents had grown used to her and melted off their cold fronts. From stoic resistance to pleasant familiarity, they had become cooperative, answering her many questions with delight.

Belle was on her fourth try at rephrasing the last paragraph about Ariel’s brothers, when the lonely half-scribbled page caught her eye.

_Werewolf: Last of her kind. Defensive and isolated._

That was all Belle had written about her, before the decisive call came from Mary Margaret one night — they had approved the decision to omit Ruby’s story from the project.

Belle felt both relieved and guilty for the update.

She was glad to allow the girl some compassion, not invade her privacy or steam-roll her wishes. However, there was a portion of remorse. Bell felt heavy and torn, for depriving their work of Ruby’s voice.

Belle knew how vital the girl’s words were. She had taken the time to ask the others for their opinions, and none had showed as much anger and frustration as Ruby had.

Instead, they were all confusing shades of denial, bargain and acceptance. All, in their ways, conformed and secured in their habitats. Belle knew she would not find another voice as strong amongst them. Not one willing to _speak_ , at least.

The days that had followed her little journey were full with stubbornness and persistence. Belle had tried again and questioned them about freedom — a stronger approach, aiming for better answers —, but they all said the same, with the same words they had before, like rehearsed responses.

Belle knew she wouldn’t accomplish much by pushing harder. Nothing would come out of a third, fourth or twentieth time on the same topic.

And she couldn’t appeal to their emotions. She knew how irresponsible that would be, to stir and ignite their burning desire for freedom, only to leave them to conform to their reality all over again.

She tried reason and facts, but that didn’t help, either. They wouldn’t budge. They had their stances and those were it, inflexible, outside Belle’s influence.

On her drives back to the hotel, she often wondered how _Jasmine_ must have felt, when she decided to publish her piece. She wondered what tactics the young journalist had used, and what results she had achieved, to make the dire decision to publish such a flammable, controversial story.

Jasmine must have walked the same path Belle had been considering. She must have felt exactly that frustrated, that helpless, that _angry._

Belle wondered what had changed, ever since Jasmine published her piece.

She hadn’t heard news about the journalist since the media backlash died out. And that had been… _what, three, four years ago?_

So long ago, since the last person stood up for the creatures. _Years_ , since someone cried for their rights to exist freely and dignifiedly.

Three or four years, plagued with overdramatic, superficial pieces, fabricated horror stories and fantastical portrayals that paid no respect to reality; that paid no respect to _them._

Three or four years, and all that was discussed about the creatures were their invaluable contribution to medicine, their threat to national security, their counterpoint to human superiority, their potential as entertainment. Amidst all, not one mention of freedom.

Most memorable were the strongly worded open letters. All the times people asked for their termination, their extinction, their permanent and inhuman isolation from the world.

Jasmine had made mistakes, Belle could accept that much. To try fueling rebellion without proper basis and factual evidence was a form of emotional manipulation, as far as the public had been concerned. _Feelings-over-facts bullshit,_ they had cursed at her.

Jasmine had asked for their release and their rights. She had cried for their righteous treatment, but all she got in response was outrage, cynicism and distrust — the many reactions of those unwilling to compromise.

_The creatures’ rights_ didn’t trouble people at the time. The crushing majority struggled to see them as anything more than show freaks, or so they countered in their many media reactions.

_“They are bizarre freaks and they should always be bizarre freaks,”_ They had posted, repeatedly, with a variety of frantic spellings.

_“If you ask me, they have it good. They’re all glamourized mental patients and diseased beasts. Why should we care that they’re feeling lonely in their million dollar magic gardens? Fuck them”_

_“Next thing you know, they’ll be asking us to fight for zombie rights. What a joke”_

_“If this Jasmine person wants them so bad, she can go and feed her own children to the witches”_

Jasmine’s fight had been lost, met with active disregard and the kind of anger only the highest entitlement could birth.

Jasmine had tried too soon, in the wrongs way, to appeal to a crowd that simply didn’t _want_ to care. She had not weighted her variables.

And as much as Belle could see her own efforts mirroring Jasmine’s, she knew she had to take a different route. _Learn from past mistakes and improve on the noble work,_ was what she told herself.

Now, three or four years passed, maybe people were warming up to Jasmine’s idea. _Maybe_ they were becoming welcoming of seeing the creatures for more than their fantastical shells, but for their identities as real, valid individuals.

At least, that was The Author’s goal.

What Belle could accomplish, however, was an entirely different thing.

***

Belle had elected that, during the weekends, she would visit the Park for pleasure.

Ed and Travis, the guards at the gate she was becoming friends with, always seemed happy to see her, even when they didn’t expect her visit.

They always wished her a good day and, as the days turned into weeks, Belle started bringing them gifts — cookies and baked goods she would buy on her way to the Park. With beaming faces, they welcomed the new formed tradition and allowed her in, waving thankful waves as her car drove away.

She was happy to befriend not only with the creatures, but also with the people employed to watch for them. It brought a sense of security to her ever-burning nerves, to recognize that the people in the protected uniforms weren’t just faceless, nameless guards adorned with armors and weapons, but men and women with lives and desires outside their work. Valid individuals, just like the creatures they guarded.

Most of them, Belle had learned, were gentle and caring. They watched over the residents with a kind, friendly familiarity Belle was content to observe. It soothed her worries that, despite their cages and limitations, the creatures were mostly handled with humanity and care.

_Mostly._

As Belle had discovered, that wasn’t always the case.

She had reserved the weekends to elaborate more freely on her writings and impressions, and had chosen to do so in the surroundings of the habitats. It helped her synch with the energy around them, so she convinced herself. To get out of the purely human hotel and write _amid_ the creatures’ domains, she thought, made her words more authentic and sincere.

Sometimes, she wanted security and peace, so she would choose a comfortable bench under a blue tree. Sometimes, she wanted mystery and danger, so she would sit by the chair-shaped rocks by the entrance of the caverns. Sometimes, she wanted fluidity and calm, so she would write close water, by the many fountains in the many squares, or the streams crossing around the forest areas.

Sometimes, when she had yet to find what she wanted, she would sit on the small hill in front of the Werewolf Den.

The grass was the greenest of greens, soft and clean — almost too perfect to be natural. The clear sky above open to the horizon of forest and nature. The silence was different, around there. Not like the cracking fire in the hotel, or the rhythmic crashing of the waves in the aquarium. The silence was deeper, somehow.

Belle felt safe there.

She felt safe knowing nothing.

So she would lay down a blanket, her basket of snacks and a big cup of tea, and _write._

The wind would blow gently on her face and she would enjoy the sounds of the small animals that dared to cross the path. She would admire the shadows cast by the trees and the pattern of the wooden boards that made Ruby’s cabin.

Those were the days she did the least _writing,_ if she was completely honest.

She kept getting distracted by the movements inside the Den. When the cabin would open, her head would shot right up from the notebook and she would follow Ruby’s mindless activities until the girl walked out of sight.

Then, on other days, she would watch through the windows of the cabin, as the girl sat at her big chair and watched something on her TV. She would notice a laugh or two blow from Ruby’s lips and she would catch herself laughing along, in pure reflex.

She would then look around, trying to hide the blind reaction, and bury her head on her book again. It wouldn’t take long for her eyes to be drawn back to the Den again.

She would smile when she would see Ruby smile.

She figured Ruby was enjoying the bad movies she mentioned and the comfortable laughs and giggles were her usual reaction. Belle was entranced. She would sit on the hill for hours, just watching as Ruby went through her day.

It was when she started realizing _not all Caretakers_ were very close and friendly.

Zack and Ruby did _not_ have a nice relationship, that much had been clear the first time Belle met her, but she had wanted to shrug it off as the eccentricity of her visit putting things off balance.

She had wanted to believe Zack was just nervous and excited to show Belle his good work, and got carried away in his treatment of Ruby. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an isolated incident.

Zack was constantly nervous around Ruby. Belle didn’t want to assume it was _fear_ , but she couldn’t address it to anything else. Zack seemed afraid of Ruby and his fear translated into excessive security and unnecessary measures.

_It wasn’t a surprise that their relationship was troubled_ , Belle concluded.

Ruby didn’t seem very fond of him, either. This time, however, Belle knew so without a doubt.

The girl was… impressively easy to read. At least, her body language was — the big green eyes hid nothing, and the strong pale shoulders always rolled back when she tried to change her attitude. For someone so reserved, she had a lot of obvious tells.

While Zack tried his best to hide his fear with masks of authority, Ruby was amazingly clear in her interactions: she did _not_ like the young man. And Belle soon learned her reasons.

Ruby was being fed raw meat.

Repeated times, Belle watched Zack carry the large metal plate to the Den. A huge slab of dripping red raw meat inside an oval glass lid, pushed through the practical door in the bars.

The first time, Belle watched in curiosity as Ruby marched towards him, arms bent in protest, when Zack slid her food inside. Ruby’s jaw was rigid with anger, as she growled words Belle couldn’t hear in the distance.

Usually then, Zack would raise his hands apologetically, stepping away from the bars on uneasy legs. Ruby would then try to shove the plate back and argue for another meal. Zack would shake his head and drop his shoulders, walking back inside his station and leaving Ruby to breathe out her anger. She would rub her head and scratch nervously at her long hair. Yet another tell.

Belle could see her struggle, even many feet in the distance.

Ruby would pace around aimlessly, pale arms tense grabbing at her sides, rubbing her shoulders up and down. The girl would stop in one place and stare at the plate for long, long minutes. The first time Belle watched it, she waited eagerly — in rude curiosity — for Ruby’s next reaction.

Sometimes, Ruby would go inside and just come back hours later, arched down and rubbing her stomach. She put up a good fight, but hunger would usually win.

Lately, Ruby had been less resilient. Her initial protest never wavered, but ultimately she would roll her shoulders back, grab the plate and carry it with her to the cabin.

This time was different.

Anger and protest arose, followed by the visible struggle with hunger and defeat. Ruby’s reaction exploded with a breath, and she slapped the plate to the side with a long, hollow snarl. The meat fell flat on the dirt as she walked away.

That was the first time Belle saw Ruby refuse to eat, entirely.

Belle sighed to herself, then, looking down at her half-eaten sandwich. An overwhelming wave of guilt washed over her, as she tried to keep her eyes from following Ruby’s distressed form into the cabin.

A breeze of shame blew on Belle, and she curled into her herself, shoulder up to her face and arms crossed over her knees.

_Gods, she remembered their first talk now._

How angry Ruby was and how quick Belle had been to argue with her; how smug Belle had felt, to call her out and challenge her manners; and _how utterly wrong it felt, now,_ to look back at it — to think Belle dared to question Ruby’s anger, knowing _nothing_ of her life.

Belle groaned against her forearms, a noise of guilt and embarrassment leaving her lungs.

_Gods, how awful!_

She couldn’t help but feel sorry for the girl.

Ruby was clearly, _justifiably_ unsatisfied with her situation, and her Caretaker seemed deaf to her complaints, only aggravating her overall frustration. Zack was an added problem.

And the most infuriating part of it all was that he _didn’t mean to be_. Zack was young and naïve, ruled by fear and the strict responsibilities of his job. That was it. _He was doing his job._

The thought lodged itself on her mind. How many people treated Ruby — and all the creatures — with the same passive disregard, by _just doing their job?_

And, most importantly, was Belle one of them?

***

“She is a kind soul, really”

Jiminy fixed his monocle, hoping towards the glass, to the limits of his habitat. Belle stepped closer, holding her arms across her chest, as she listened to Jiminy’s answer.

She had asked him about Ruby.

“Smiling and charming,” he recalled, drawing what seemed like a cricket smile on his tiny face, “Always ready to chat and help. She and Ariel had a lovely friendship. They kept each other company,” Jiminy pointed to the old-fashioned phone attached to the clear wall, “She would call me to talk, during her most difficult times. She has all this… weight she carries with her, but, in the end she is just harmless and _lonely”_ he nodded in conclusion.

Belle pressed her fingers around her forearms, the pressure of her tension invisible to her.

“It was implied that something happened to her, that drastically changed her behavior,” she wondered out aloud. Blue eyes escaped in the direction of the Den, now faded in the distance of many blocks. “Ariel said she’s more closed off now”

Jiminy seemed uncomfortable. He cleared his throat, adjusting his weight on the carpet. “Yes, but that —”

“You can’t tell me” Belle anticipated, raising a hand in front of her chest. “And I absolutely respect that. I guess I was looking to know… _how much_ it changed her” she shrugged.

“We don’t talk much anymore,” Jiminy explained, his voice dropping from his usual formal tone. Slowly, he too let his attention be pulled to the Den. “She is isolating herself more and more. And her new Caretaker is not doing anything to help her with that. They’re pushing each other away, when Ruby most needs company” his tiny chest fell, exhaling exhaustion.

Belle tried not to mirror his motion, but it was hard not to empathize with the feeling of frustration that consumed her when she thought about Ruby and Zack’s relationship. It was most definitely _frustrating,_ to imagine the two, one as reserved as the other, doing nothing to break the chain reaction of hostility.

Belle bit her lip, containing her frown.

“I believe she is heavily depressed”, the voice pulled Belle back to the present, and her eyes shot back to Jiminy’s figure inside the glass walls, worry written on her features. Jiminy nodded sympathetically at her concern. “I _wish_ she would reach out to me again. Or to Ariel, to _anyone_ , about what happened, but that’s not what she desires,” he resented, and Belle couldn’t help her wild wonder from trying to piece together any sort of answer.

Ruby was hurt. That much had been obvious when they first met.

The girl carried anger, frustration and sadness in her. She shielded herself behind it all, with thick barriers of rejection and reluctance. It was clear something bothered her, but Belle had come to assume that was her desire for freedom.

She thought _this_ was her greatest worry, what weighted more in her misery, but now…

There was something more. The darkness and sadness Belle had sensed before, they were born from that.

“I fear for her, you know?” Jiminy breathed out a nervous sigh, and Belle saw, behind the façade of his composure, the friend in him that cared deeply for Ruby. His worry was true. “I fear for what she’ll do. What she’s going through…” his voice faded. He breathed in again, seeming to organize his thoughts, “A girl like her, alone like she is, she must be dealing with a great deal of pain”

Jiminy held his body with his arms and Belle caught herself doing the same. She felt cold and uncomfortable, all of a sudden. She felt her chest heavy and her throat coarse.

She wasn’t a friend of Ruby’s. If anything, they disliked each other. Or, at least, that’s the impression of her Ruby was left with. They weren’t friends and they would most likely never be.

It was illogical to do so, yet, _Belle cared for her_. Too much and too soon.

What an incurably big heart, had Belle French.

***

Her two months had passed, but her work wasn’t done.

It demanded more than anyone on her team had anticipated, Belle concluded. The creatures were all _too human_ and too real to be so quickly decrypted and described. They had a depth Belle had been surprised by. They felt and they formed bonds with each other, in ways Belle couldn’t summarize in easy pages.

They demanded attention, work and care. Belle French was a respectful journalist assigned to a respectful job and she would complete it and present it with all the dignity and dedication she had to give.

Two months just hadn’t been enough. She asked for more. One call to Mary Margaret’s desk, and a convoluted, rambling e-mail with her rough and unfinished draft attached were enough to convince her team to let her stay.

_“Indefinitely”,_ they had said. “ _Stay for as long as you need, and do a good job”,_ they promised and Belle was happy to oblige.

Mary, David and all the others — yes, _even Killian_ — came to understand how difficult the job was and how overwhelmed Belle could be, trying to navigate all the different minds of the vastly different creatures and do them justice in her writing. Their humanness had been miscalculated and no one dared to question it; they all allowed Belle the time she needed.

Maybe her decision of many weeks ago was what shifted their course and led them to this deeper, more careful observation of the creatures.

Belle knew the decision to remove one of the creatures had been met with confusion, refusal and disappointment, but eventually they reached the consensus that it was for the best. _Jasmine’s Fiasco had to be the last._

In light of that, Belle hadn’t properly visited Ruby since her second day on the Park.

She wondered if that had warmed Ruby up to the idea of Belle’s presence. She wondered if that had proven how serious and committed she was to propose a change to Ruby’s unfortunate expectations.

She wondered a lot, about the girl.

But only after two months, she gathered the courage to speak to her again.

Now she had a better understanding of the place. She had completely discarded the Park map, as every path and corner was now, _finally_ , engraved in her memory. A master of her surroundings, indeed.

She waltzed through the many arks and corners with skill, greeting all the guards and caretakers she now knew by name. She asked them about their day and they traded updates and inside jokes. She had made friends there. With both the creatures and the lovely people assigned to watch them. She had found familiarity.

Even Zack was starting to grow on her.

Confirming her initial suspicions, the boy was indeed _very_ young. He had just turned 23 and was fairly inexperienced with working at a high responsibility job like the one. However, what he lacked in knowledge he made up for in effort. The guy was _dedicated._ He obeyed every order to the letter, the second it was given, and he clocked in and out without missing a minute.

Belle admired his hard work.

But it still wasn’t enough to shake from her mind the many times she had watched him serve Ruby raw meat; the many times he had pressed the damned ringing button for no obvious reason besides his fear; the many times he had ignored Ruby’s request for a different meal, or another book, or a new movie.

Belle had watched him walk past her, as Ruby tried to ask him a question or request a change in her habitat.

And, _Belle knew,_ Zack didn’t act out of plain neglect. He was simply _too scared_ to see Ruby as anything other than a dangerous, unstable hybrid. He was too young and Ruby was too tired to show him anything different.

Belle felt bad for the two, locked in their positions, unwilling to step out of the cycle.

Finally, after the two months, she decided to disrupt it.

It was a warm afternoon, when Belle approached the Den at last.

Ruby was lying leisurely on the grass, legs spread and head weighting down. She was playing with the tips of her long hair, twirling it around her finger and letting it fall to the side.

The girl seemed distracted, with green eyes not really looking at the mechanic movements of her hands, but at something past it, into the nothingness.

Belle eventually had to announce her presence, taping on the bars. “Hi,” she called to the girl.

Ruby blinked into attention, eyes focusing back on something concrete and raising to meet hers. Belle could notice, then, the dark circles on the fair face, and the pale scowl casting shadows of exhaustion. A weak sigh left the rosy lips — Ruby was tired.

Still, the girl kept her aloof mask, frowning in reply. “I thought you were gone already. It’s been, what, four months?” Ruby groaned, as she lifted herself from the ground, slapping the dirt off the ripped jeans.

“Two, actually,” Belle smiled, waving her arms around as she spoke, “I’m staying longer than planned, now. I asked for permission, explained I need more time, and they gladly allowed me”

When Belle looked back at the Den, she felt her shoulders jump up in surprise, as she saw Ruby walking closer. She finally stopped, mere inches from the bars that separated them. She stood closer than she ever had before — close enough for Belle to smell the scent of grass and flowers lingering on her clothes, and follow the soft lines of her face.

It didn’t seem aggressive though, not like before. Ruby didn’t radiate the same energy, rough and electric, that she had the day they met. There was no growl or snarl or snarky remark rumbling in her chest.

She just looked _tired._ Probably, Belle thought, too tired to care.

She smiled at the thought, and forced herself to keep the conversation. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to leave this place,” Belle admitted.

A chuckle rose low in Ruby’s throat, and a lazy grin followed, “Well, let’s switch places, then” Green eyes looked down at her, humorous and light, “When is your bus coming?”

Belle’s giggle bubbled from her chest before she could stop it. The easy energy around Ruby caught her completely and utterly unprepared. Ruby’s _smile,_ although subtle and small, caught her completely and utterly unprepared.

Belle almost didn’t know how to deal with the harmless humor — she had prepared for battle, not… _jokes._

She thought better not to defy her luck, so she joined the gesture. “No way!” she let out a dramatic gasp, “I couldn’t watch the movies you like. I would be bored within a day”

Ruby smiled again and Belle struggled not to fall into her own mind again. _If the girl was stunning while cursing, smiling she was…_

“Acquired taste” Ruby angled her head to the side, letting her shoulders drop on their weight.

Belle just blinked in silence, as she admired the gentle light hitting Ruby’s face, accentuating her sharp features and making the jade in her eyes shine close to gold.

_It was like looking at the moon_. If Belle stared for too long, she’d get lost in thought, beyond reach.

“I see you’re talking a lot with Ariel” Ruby broke the silence and Belle shuddered again, unprepared.

Judging by her tone, she didn’t seem bothered by Belle’s long gaze. In fact, she didn’t seem to mind Belle at all, for better or for worse. It was almost insulting.

“You’re becoming good friends,” the girl added, and Belle realized she had to reply, eventually. _That was how conversations were supposed to go._

She swallowed her muteness. “Zack told you that?” She frowned. It didn’t seem like something Zack would do.

“Nah,” Ruby wrinkled her nose, pointing vaguely to her head, “I can hear it from here. You guys laugh a lot,” She noted, and Belle was again overcome by the awkward giggling.

“She is funny”, she snorted, as she tried to hide her sudden inaptitude. _Who would have known it was harder to maintain a friendly conversation, than a hostile one?_

Again, Ruby couldn’t care less for her inner struggles. Now it was _definitely_ an insult. “She is,” Ruby agreed, looking away to the Aquarium.

The persistent silence set in one more time, and Belle knew Ruby wouldn’t care to break it again, not when Belle was such an awful, awkward mess. She accepted the challenge.

With a shaky, nervous sigh, she called for Ruby’s attention, “You look tired. Have you been running?”

_Great try, Belle._

Ruby shook her head before looking back at her, dark eyebrows arched and eyes closed. “No. Full moon was last week,” She stated, and when Belle went silent, she added, “It drains all my energy,” she pursued her lips and retired to her mask of fatigue.

The image flooded Belle’s brain — a huge wolf, running into the night, until it couldn’t stand. Until its paws bled.

A frown had formed on Belle’s face, to which Ruby replied with a dry laugh, “But thank you for the compliment. You don’t look like shit”

Belle snorted out a laugh, rising a hand to her face to hide the reddening cheeks.

“Sorry,” she mumbled in the aftermaths of her laugh and Ruby just hummed dismissively. “I’m a terrible runner, actually. Not the greatest athlete,” Belle looked up to meet Ruby’s gaze and was surprised to find the girl was sincerely interested in her. _Finally._ “My exercise of choice is reaching for the top shelf,” She joked.

And it felt like her first grand victory, when Ruby laughed at her comment. The girl let her head fall forward, the long hair sliding off her slender shoulders. When she looked up again, her pale cheeks were colored with a blush.

Victory had never tasted sweeter. _Belle had made her laugh._

“You _are_ very short,” Ruby nodded, glancing down at Belle’s feet and quickly back to her eyes.

Belle shrugged, unshaken. She had invited the provocation. “Thank you. I am aware”

Ruby’s smile hadn’t faded, still brightening her face with the most beautiful glow. Belle held her gaze for as long as she could.

_It was looking at the moon, and seeing the moon smile back. It was unnerving and inspiring, all at once._

She took a deep breath. It was her first real victory since their last talk. She wanted to savor it. She didn’t it want ruined or disturbed. She wanted it preserved, just like that.

So she accepted her luck and didn’t dare push it any further. Not when it felt so fleeting.

She nodded, and smiled back at Ruby. “Feel better soon,” she wished, and turned to leave.

In the corner of her vision, she saw the girl’s easy smile melt into confusion and interest. _What a victory, indeed._

“Thanks,” Ruby mumbled with curious hesitation, as Belle continued down the path.

_It was like having the moon look back. Frightening and flattering._


	6. Chapter 6

She knew she had to pick up his call _eventually_.

Killian was never the type to give up, even if the universe around him conspired against his ways. This was possibly the most interesting and infuriating thing about him.

Her sigh echoed in the empty room for umpteenth time.

“When are you coming back?” Killian asked, and Belle rolled her eyes under the dim light of her lamp. _She just wanted some sleep._

“I don’t know,” she rubbed face again, feeling her eyelids heavier and heavier each time. “When I finish my writing, when I’m done collecting all the information I need,” she gestured vaguely in the empty space, close to picturing her tired hands strangling his neck. The image helped her push some of the sleepiness away. “We have until next year to have this ready. Don’t worry,” she told him.

She knew it was a futile wish. She could explain it a hundred times in a hundred different ways, but he could never wrap his mind around that one unchangeable fact: she did not need his worry.

His accent returned thick and irritated through the static. “It’s not about _time_. I’m worried about you”

_There it was._

Belle rolled her eyes again, making little effort to hide the annoyance in her voice. “Don’t be. It’s just like I said, they are all impeccably secured and I’m becoming friends with a lot of them” she recalled their names and faces, and the gentle memories of her many pleasant conversations eased her growing irritation. “There is no danger here for me”

“Yes, but—” Killian cut himself short, and the muffled sound of rubbing cloth and lazy breathing filled the line.

He was in bed. Instead of allowing himself the rest he so clearly wanted, he decided to bother Belle and deprive her of her comfortable sleep. She wrote another entry on her mind for _the growing list of reasons to never pick up a call from Killian Jones._

“What about the werewolf?” His dragged question was a whisper. Still, she could hear every note and tone of his disgust, and it didn’t sit well in her guts; the way he said the word.

This was most definitely _not_ a conversation Belle wanted to have with Killian.

She locked her jaw, the flash of anger cutting through her thick fatigue. “Did Mary Margaret tell you that?”

Killian spat his answer immediately. “Of course! I’m part of this team! I had to approve the change to exclude the werewolf!” His raising voice sounded strangled, like he was trying his best to keep quiet. _His best wasn’t good enough_. “Of course I know this, Belle!”

“Do not raise your voice, please,” Belle asked. They both knew it was a command.

Killian breathed out, before continuing. “I’m sorry,” was murmured, “I… That’s just something I need you to know. _I am part of this too”_

“I know you are,” she ran her hands through her hair, resting the weight of her head on her arm. _Gods, she just wanted to sleep!_ “But, again, _here_ this is my call to make,” Belle explained, feeling annoyed at herself for doing so.

She shouldn’t have to explain it. They were grown adults, with careers and reputations. They were renowned professionals in their field and they worked for one of the best, most credible teams in country.

They shouldn’t be having this conversation, late at night, each in their own beds, fighting a losing battle against sleep and trying their best not to yell at each other. _That was ridiculous._ They should act like the professionals they were, and accept the changes and tribulations of their job.

It was plain and simple. The fact that Killian refused to treat Belle like any other coworker was infuriating, bordering insulting. She _knew_ he would not dare do the same to David or Mary Margaret.

It was all because he felt this sense of entitlement around her. She had always noticed it — that air around him, when he addressed her. Something old and dusty and smelling too much like a caveman.

He believe he owned part of Belle and that was easily the first three hundreds entries on her list.

She wished her silence would convey it all — she didn’t want to waste her vanishing energy with words —, but it appeared like the trick only worked with Ruby. Or with people with the decent amount of perception. Apparently, the silence didn’t speak for everyone.

Killian wasn’t phased. He continued, on his same momentum. “Did she try anything with you?” His voice was now careful and slow, and Belle dreaded what was to come.

 _That mute sound before the storm._ He was shedding all of his professional front, entering their most uncomfortable and astonishingly undeveloped territory yet: _friendship._

No, that wasn’t even the right word to call what they had. Whatever it was, it wasn’t friendship. Regardless, Killian insisted on it.

“Who?” Belle tried her luck. Playing oblivious tended to serve as a decent hint to most people. At his grunt, she sighed. Yes, _most_ people _._

“The werewolf!” He said.

“No, of course not!” Belle’s face frowned into a defensive mask. “She barely talks to me. She wants nothing to do with me,” She recalled and tried not to wince at the oldest memories of the girl. “Why would she try anything?”

“I know she is messing with your head” Killian accused, and Belle fought off a laugh. If she so much as coughed, he would take that as a challenge and Belle wasn’t in the mood to deal with his temper. Not when all she wanted was to sleep.

“She has _opinions_ ,” she elongated her words, “Valid ones. And I began to see more of her side. That’s that,” she felt the edges of her voice getting sharper, and slowly breathed in, calming her nerves. “That’s how normal conversations go”

Before her voice had even faded, Killian spoke again.

“But she is not _normal_ ” He, too, stretched each syllable of his words, and Belle wondered who learned the annoying habit from who. “You know that, right? She didn’t try to convince you otherwise, did she?”

His anxiety was growing beneath his accent and Belle tried to speed up their conversation. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck calming down a grown man in the middle of the night, _when all she wanted was some sleep._

“No,” her voice was hard, “No, she’s not _normal._ The silver bars that separate us serve as a reminder enough on their own!”

Belle’s own discomfort showed itself despite her struggle, and Killian at last seemed to notice the change in her tone. She was begin to doubt he was even listening to her.

“Okay, okay” he sighed, “Don’t try your luck, okay? Keep doing your work, and ignore this one”

_This one._

Belle grinded her teeth.

“You can do this”

“I _know_ I can, Killian” she spat her reply, her fingernails scratching her scalp to alleviate her anger.

_He had a way to get under her skin._

“And if something goes wrong, if you start to freak out or… _Doubt_ anything, please call me,” he asked. “I’m here for you”

Though his words were nothing but sincere, Belle knew without a doubt that _she didn’t want him there for her._ Calling him in a time of need would never be a possibility — the infinite list made sure of it.

“I know, I know!” Her reply was hollow of meaning.

“Okay, fine” he was quieter now. Maybe Killian knew it, too. “I just wanted to let you know. Be safe, Belle”

Belle shut her eyes and nodded. “I will” She quickly ended the call, throwing her phone to the side, away from her reach.

She rubbed her eyes again, this time trying to wipe the irritation from her face, and the feeling of Killian’s overbearing presence from her mind.

How _confident_ he had been, that Belle needed any of his advice — any of his support and his wisdom. _She didn’t._ She would never need it. Not in her most desperate time, she would resort to him. Not even if the ground beneath her feet gave in, she would reach for his help.

She would rather fall into the endless pit of whatever lurked in the Earth, than reach for him. That was certain.

As she rolled to her side and pulled the covers up to her ears, she tried to think of anything else, to distract her from her disdain of him.

Literally anything else. _Murder, famine, horror._ Anything would be more enjoyable as a lullaby than the recent memory of his voice.

Searching through groggy thoughts and formless faces, she found refuge in green eyes and long dark hair.

She didn’t know why. Her mind took her to the greenest hill and she stayed there, starting at the deep silence of the Den. The sleep crawled back into her body and filled her mind with disconnected pictures, and she closed her eyes.

That night, she dreamed with the moon.

***

It was a warm, windy Sunday.

The quiet town was even quieter and the streets were as soundless as her room. After trying to polish her first chapter about a hundred times, she gave up on her work for the day, packed her bag with books and snacks, and drove to the Park.

She waved to her new friends by the gate and steered curve after curve in search of a parking spot closest to the Den. Eventually, she settled for a short walk to the habitat and enjoyed the lengthy path her lazy feet took her on.

It gave her some precious time to calm down.

Breathing in and out, she reminded herself that Ruby was just a person.

Yes, a hybrid of incredible skills and strength, but a person, nonetheless. A person with likes and dislikes, quirks and preferences, just like the crew who watched over her.

Ruby was a person. Belle shouldn’t fear her, or be nervous around her. Ruby was a _person._

Step after step, she paced closer to the Den and her heart beat to the rhythm of her feet.

 _Well, the first point was easy to argue._ Belle didn’t have it in her to fear Ruby. She never did, truly. Not more than she feared her many bosses and bullies years before. Survival or social, _fear was not the issue._

It was her nerves. Always, her nerves. Uncontrollable and unreasonable.

She knew she would be daring further than before, with what she intended for their meeting of the day — and she was aware of the risk she was taking —, but she figured she would survive it, whatever the outcome turned out to be.

She would live and leave in one piece, perfectly fine. Maybe one or a thousand ranging nerves to leave her crippled for a few weeks, but _fine_ , in the end.

Ruby was a person and Belle was usually great with people.

Like a hunter stalking her prey, she could point their weakness and strengths; their worries and honors; their moods and inclinations.

Belle French _knew_ how to read and deal with people. A moody girl with impossibly self-incriminating eyes should not be much of a challenge.

She reached the end of her walk and stopped by the silver bars. Her heart beating firm inside her chest.

Bag sliding off her shoulder and book crooked under her arm, she adjusted her posture before calling attention to herself. Presentable again, she knocked twice on the bars, trying to make the noise as dull and small as possible to not irritate sensitive hearing.

That had been the polite way to address ogres, according to their Caretaker. Belle just hoped the same applied to werewolves — not that Ruby’s Caretaker cared much for her hearing — _Focus!_ She told herself, shaking her head to the sides.

“Hey there!” Belle called to the empty den after her third knock with no response, “Are you home?” She bit her lip almost immediately. That may have been a bad joke to make.

The echo of her call faded away and the habitat remained unchanged. Decided to continue, Belle walked a few steps further, trying to get a better angle to look inside the cabin. The low lights were on in what seemed to be a bedroom, but her ears couldn’t pick up any noise or movement.

She waited a few seconds more, shifting her weight to the front of her feet and back, like a child pretending to be patient.

“Ruby?” She called again, and finally, the cabin showed some reaction.

The lights flickered off and the wide entrance door slowly dragged and creaked open.

Bare feet stepped lazily on the wooden porch, carrying the slouched down figure of Ruby outside.

Long and messy dark hair framed a puffed face lined with pillow marks. The clear personification of a good night of sleep.

Belle giggled to herself. “I’m sorry,” she covered her mouth, as she watched Ruby walk closer, groggy feet still adjusting to the terrain, “Did I wake you up?”

The answer was obvious and Ruby didn’t bother with words. She just raised a sleepy smile and shrugged, tossing the loose hair away from her face.

“I have all the time in the world to sleep” Ruby yawned soundlessly, turning her head to her side. Belle took the chance to admire the sharp canines once more. Each time she stole a glance at them, they worried her less; she liked them more. “What is it?” Ruby frowned at her, and Belle snapped back to her own body.

She shook her head and found a firmer footing on the ground, before reaching with both hands for the book by her side. “I brought you something”

Belle’s voice was thin and shaky, and she hoped the gifted hearing couldn’t hear the fast beating of her hopeful heart. As she held the book closer to the bars, she concentrated on not trembling or faltering, keeping her eyes fixed on Ruby’s face.

The pale features slowly lost their sleepiness, drawing lines and shades of surprise, as the bright eyes inspected the light blue cover.

Ruby’s reaction was welcoming, and Belle celebrated the first victory of the day.

The girl inclined her head to one side, hair swaying in the movement, reminding Belle of a confused puppy and its long ears. She tried her hardest to kick the image to the back of her head, but the more she thought about it, the clearer it became.

She bit her lips again, holding her smile.

“What is it about?” Ruby didn’t take her eyes from the book, inspecting each letter and every drawing.

Belle shrugged, curving a smug smile on her face. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be so _Mysterious_ , now would it?”

Ruby rolled her eyes at Belle’s bad joke, but it was light and playful — enough to calm the beating heart down.

“Take it. I know you will like it. It’s my favorite of his work,” Belle held the book closer to the bars, turning and pushing it through the furthest her short arms could hold it. The bars couldn’t burn her human skin, after all.

With an easy smile, Ruby reached for the book, careful to avoid the silver. When her hands were about to touch it, a loud voice crashed onto them, breaking their comfortable silence.

“Ruby! Step back!”

Belle spun to find Zack running towards them, sweaty chest breathless and red face worried.

He had his hand on his belt, holding what Belle peeked to find was a small spray can, colored in lavender. She hissed. _Aconitum._

She was about to march towards him and protest the action, when she heard Ruby sigh.

She turned again, to see the girl holding her arms up in surrender, tired eyes to the ground and shoulders flaccid in defeat.

The exhausted familiarity of her reaction told Belle this was not the first time Zack overreacted to that extent. _Probably, it wouldn’t be the last._

“No, Zack!” Belle called to him, determined to break his burning focus on Ruby. She didn’t want to witness the effect of an aconitum spray on a werewolf’s face. “I’m just — _see?_ ” She held the book up, turning the cover to him. His dark eyes scanned the book, plagued with suspicion. “I’m just lending her a book. That is just it,” she breathed out.

Belle felt her own body tensing up and curving in itself, making itself smaller and smaller, in her best effort to show the boy no danger or ill intentions.

It was tiring and uncomfortable, trying to prove herself harmless. She wondered how Ruby managed to live in that constant.

“Yeah, Zack. Relax!” The girl joined her. Her eyes, however, didn’t bother looking him in the face. “I won’t rip her arm out or anything,” Ruby ended with a scoff and Belle felt goosebumps rise up her spine.

Surely, Ruby was kidding, but the fact that she so easily _could do_ such a thing was unnerving on its own. It was like standing on the tallest edge, knowing you could never fall, but dreading it anyway.

She wondered if that was _fear —_ or simply a raw form of awe.

“I—I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s allowed?” Zack looked at Belle and followed line of vision.  Slowly, he seemed to realize the placement of his hand and eased his grip on the spray.

Belle frowned at his tone. “What, for guests to lend book? _Seriously?”_

Ruby leaned closer to whisper, “He is new here,” and when Belle turned to look at her, she was already back to her place, staring down the Caretaker. “It _is_ allowed,” she showed her teeth, “Read the fucking manual. There is nothing against it”

Belle watched as Ruby’s light energy revolved with rough frustration.

It seemed to be the way they were accustomed to. Aggression and mistrust, in an endless loop.

Ruby was clearly much rougher treating her Caretaker, and Zack always had to calm down from a paranoid trance to address Belle. It was as if they had their standard moods to treat each other. Hardened and final.

“Here, check it for knives, keys, _cooked meat,”_ Ruby jabbed at him, pointing to the book in Belle’s hand. She took the cue to offer it to Zack. “You know, all that is forbidden”

Zack took the book from Belle with as much care as someone takes possible bomb. Belle scowled at his tension, while he flipped quickly through the pages and shook and patted the book down, inspecting every part of it.

She winced at the careless handling, and Ruby snorted at her reaction. “What?” Belle shot her a defensive glance. _“I care for my books”_

Ruby smiled with the corner of her mouth, white canines again in display, “I can see that”

Belle puffed and looked away to hide her blushing cheeks.

The long, torturous moment was over, and Zack finally handed Belle the book.

“Thank you,” she nodded to him, and he nodded back to her, in an uncomfortable, mechanical exchange.

A beat and he was gone, walking back to his station with nervous eyes still looking back over his shoulder.

“I would growl at him to scare him off, but he has all those gadgets” Ruby’s playful tone drew Belle’ eyes back to the Den. “It’s not worth the headache,” Ruby wrinkled her noise and faked a painful expression.

Belle smiled and tried not to look too apologetic. Ruby certainly didn’t want her pity. She joked to make light of it, not to ask for compassion — that was one thing Belle had learned about her. Wolf or not, there was a shadow of pride in Ruby.

Sighing her thoughts away and recapitulating all her precaution, Belle reached the book in between the bars. Once Ruby had the firm grasp, she let it go. Pale hands patted the cover and examined the texture of the pages. Her fingers slid down the thick spine, much like one inspects a weapon.

Finally, Ruby looked back at Belle. “Thanks,” she waved her free hand, and turned her body to leave.

Belle was shocked into attention, “Hey, wait a second!” She called promptly, before Ruby’s long strides could get her any further.

The girl turned to her again, confused expression on her face.

Belle gulped, swallowing her ragged energy. “Do you have something I can borrow? A bad movie, maybe?” She gestured excitedly in the empty space between them, “I figured we could have a cultural exchange, here”

At Ruby’s raised eyebrow, Belle braced for impact.

No snarky retort came and she sighed in relief. Instead, after the endless second, the girl walked back to the bars, brow furrowed in what looked like mocking doubt.

“I thought you said you would be bored within a minute”, Ruby argued, crossing her arms over her chest, book safely secured in her hand.

 _“A day,”_ Belle corrected and Ruby nodded.

“A day, of course”

“I can watch a lot of movies in a day,” Belle promised, lifting her chin up. Ruby's smile turned into a low chuckle.

“Not _my_ bad movies,” A single eyebrow raised again, defiant. “They are a challenge”

Belle scoffed, “Come on, I can handle it,” she waved enthusiastically in the air. “Give me your worst one!”

Ruby’s face still held her intrigued grin as she bowed and made her way back to the cabin. After a moment, she returned — book replaced with a DVD case.

Much like before, she examined it thoroughly before presenting it to Belle. “Attack of The Crab Monsters”, Ruby proudly offered.

At the sight of the monstrosity, Belle grunted and winced, letting her shoulders fall. “Oh.”

“I told you,” Ruby chuckled at the reaction. Belle’s squirming expression refused to relax, and she pointed over her shoulder to the cabin, “I have another, if you want. _The Room_ , it’s a classic,” she marked the tittle with dramatic wide eyes, and Belle had to smile at the little joke. Ruby hummed in thought, “I have Samurai Cop. Or Birdemic! I swear, you _cannot_ keep a straight face through this one!”

Ruby’s excitement contaminated Belle, and she felt giggles bubble silently from her chest.

_Ruby was so beautiful smiling._

Belle realized it, then, that joyfulness still existed in her, somewhere. Ruby wasn’t purely resentment and protest. She was silly and joyful, at times. Whatever misery skulked in her, it wasn’t enough to swallow her whole.

And Belle knew she wanted so much more of it — all the joy and silly happiness that escaped her, through the cracks of her masks.

Belle shook her head and joked an insulted look. “That’s hardly fair! I brought you a beautiful piece of literature and you bring me…” she leaned closer, scrunching her nose at the tittle, “Crab Monsters”

Ruby shrugged, pressing her lips together almost apologetically. “That’s how it is. I’m sorry I don’t have _The Notebook”_

Belle snorted, “I bet Ariel has it!”

“Oh, she does!” Ruby nodded, “She’s watched it a hundred times. She can remember all the lines. It’s scary,” she cast a look in the distance, towards the Aquarium.

“Pfffft,” Belle mocked, “I’m sure you can recite a few of these atrocities, too”

Ruby licked her lips, rolling her shoulders back and composing her best acting pose. “’ _You are tearing me apart, Lisa!_ ’” She chuckled at herself then dismissed the act with a quick wave, “But, again, that is a classic”

Belle stared her down, shaking her head mechanically and putting up her own dramatic act of disappointment. “You have _terrible_ taste”

“You haven’t even watched it! Give it a try,” Ruby protested. She pushed the movie through the bars, struggling to balance her hands between the silver. Painfully aware of the impairment, Belle quickly reached through, and took the case.

“I will,” she examined the artwork on the cover — needlessly sexual. She turned to look at the back, handling the case like one handles expired food. “But I don’t have much hope”

Ruby laughed, “Well, that’s wise”

“I guess!” Belle agreed.

Little by little, their voices faded into silence, and they were left to look at each other, carried by the calming sounds of the birds and the smooth current of the stream in the distance.

Ruby still hadn’t broken her gaze, and Belle started feeling nervous again. _It was definitely not fear._

Ruby’s expressions were always translucent for Belle to read and, now, that proved to be quite unnerving.

She stared at Belle with a new type of curiosity.

Not mocking, not angry, not defiant. She was light and joyful and playful, almost nothing like the girl Belle had met on her first day.

The question was starting to burn in her chest. The stillness slowly turned heavier and heavier to her ears and she couldn’t stand just one more second of it.

She cleared her throat and breathed in deeply. _She had to ask._

“At the risk of… _ruining my luck,_ ” she began, and noted how Ruby’s eyes colored in confusion. “What changed?”

Ruby blinked, “What do you mean?”

“For you, to decide to finally talk to me, _nicely”_ Belle fidgeted, pressing the plastic case against her chest. “What changed?”

The girl waited for long, long seconds. Belle thought the sun would set before she spoke again.

With a click of her tongue, she lifted up her shoulders and answered. “I was tired, I guess”

Belle scoffed. A disbelieving glare in the blue eyes. “Tired of the _Rude Act_?”

“Tired of being alone”

The words hung heavy and silence sat between them.

Belle became aware of how her body felt, itching and uncomfortable. Out of place.

“And why exactly do you think that was an Act?” Ruby raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. “It felt very real at times”, she smiled, and Belle knew the discomfort was her own.

Ruby didn’t mean it as terribly sad as it had sounded.

Belle gulped and adjusted her posture, trying to shake off her shoulders the sudden awkwardness.

“I don’t know,” she looked down, away from the green eyes for a moment, “Everyone that I asked said that you’re kind. That was always the first thing, actually: kind. But then, you weren’t exactly that, with me. I figured it was a front”

She inhaled, hoping to look up and find the amused smile welcoming her questions. But when she looked up to Ruby’s face, all lightness had been erased and replaced with a serious, defensive scowl — jaw taut, and lips in a thin line.

“You talked to people about me?” Ruby’s voice was low.

Belle wet her lips before replying.

“I wanted to know how to better approach you — make amends —, and you weren’t being of any help, so I went and looked for it,” Belle shrugged, feeling her arms press harder against her body, in a protective reflex. Her bones begged to run, but she wanted to stay. “Ariel had some wonderful things to say about you, and Regina—”

“Don’t _ask_ people about me,” Ruby stepped impossibly closer, inches away from burning against the silver bars. The cold fire in her eyes barely seemed to notice them, starting directing into Belle’s very core. “Don’t— Don’t talk to people about me. I’m not a topic, I’m not to be discussed and analyzed and studied—,”

“Easy!” Belle held up her hands, but her shoulders resisted relaxing. Her whole body was tense, wanting an escape. “I was curious, that’s all”

“You were invading my privacy,” Ruby stepped back, body rigid and muscles lean. Never breaking eye contact with Belle, she held her gaze, electric and hard. “You were—you were crossing my boundaries!” Ruby’s face was a mask of offense, eyes wide and lips pressed to her teeth. _She was ready to run._

Belle stepped forward, reaching her hands to the empty space. “I wasn’t! I was trying to understand you. I still am,” she shook her head, fighting to keep her voice calm, “There’s no harm in that!”

Ruby didn’t answer. She exhaled through her nose and rolled her shoulders back — all the clear tells that she was about to leave, slam the door again and shut all chances Belle could have at explaining herself.

Belle wouldn’t allow it. As Ruby started walking — long strides covering ground much faster than she ever could — Belle followed, circling the cage.

“Listen to me!” Belle yelled to her back. “I want to know you. Screw _why_ I’m here!” She threw her hands in the air, as soon as the Ruby turned to look over her shoulder. Eyes still a concrete wall. “I talked to my boss, and I’m not writing about you anymore. Like you wanted, you are no longer a subject, a study. You are just a person”

Ruby huffed, feet finally firm on the ground. Her walk had stopped, but her body remained taut and ready to burst.

“I stopped coming like you asked, right?” Belle insisted, taking all the chances Ruby was willing to give her, “I respected your wishes. But… I’m still curious about you”, she admitted, and her breathing felt warmer, faster.

It was incredibly vulnerable, to say it out loud. It stripped her of any leverage she ever thought she had. It left her exposed.

Ruby scoffed. “Google ‘werewolf’ until you’re satisfied, then”

“This is not— _listen to me!”_ Belle walked closer to the bars, griping the cold metal with sweaty hands. “This is not about that. I don’t _care_ that you’re a werewolf.  I see beyond that, it doesn’t matter!”

Ruby curled her lips up, and Belle knew she was fighting a growl. Part of her seemed to want to scare Belle off. Another part of her, struggled to stay.

“What I’m curious about…” Belle dared continuing, swallowing the irritation vibrating in her own chest. “I’m curious _about you_. Your personality, your terrible tastes,” she laughed a nervous sound, raising the case she still held tightly in her hands. “Your races with Ariel and your talks with Jiminy. That’s it!”

She puffed and caught her breath, just waiting for Ruby’s reaction.

It took even longer. _Seconds, minutes or hours,_ Ruby stared at her, her expression an indivisible blend of confusion, anger and boredom.

She scanned Belle up and down, before her chest rose up with a deep, slow breath. Only then to fall down and dissolve the rigidity of her arms.

“Why would you want to know about me?” Ruby’s voice sounded defeated. Limp hands gestured to her body, “I’m just _this._ This is all of me”

Belle shook her head, brown locks flying over her eyes. “It isn’t,” she whispered, and Ruby frowned between wincing and scoffing. “And I trust everyone when they say you are kind, friendly, _selfless—”_

“I’m not,” Ruby let out a long sigh. “Don’t expect so much of me. They are all mistaken. I’m _this._ ”

“Maybe right now,” Belle nodded, “but that’s okay. I just…” She weighted her words. Ruby had given her space to talk and she wanted to make the most of it. “I just want to know you. Honestly, _like an equal._ Like a person” Belle confessed. Her eyes locked on Ruby’s, “Can you understand that?”

The girl seemed to fight her confusion. Her eyes seemed unsure what to look at, what to focus on, travelling the spaces between them, and around Belle’s worried face. She searched for something.

In the end, she resigned to the vacant space in the long distance. “There’s nothing _to know,”_ she stared at Belle one last time before she turned to leave, “Don’t waste your time,” And Ruby walked away, deaf to Belle’s calls.

The cabin door shut slowly this time, just the hollow, tired echo of the wood, in the quietness of Belle’s thoughts.

She sighed to herself.

 _There is more to her than anger and misery,_ Belle reminded her flickering hope. _More to her than this._

She looked down to her hands, fingers pressing carefully the around the edges of the plastic.

_Much, much more than this._


	7. Chapter 7

“Say, Jiminy” Belle reached for another cookie on the plastic plate between them. Pieces crumbled in her mouth, “How nice is your Caretaker?”

Jiminy dipped his tiny, _tiny_ , piece of the cookie into his _even tinier_ cup of tea. The little mouth hardly managing a bite. “Sarah is great. Gentle and caring,” he looked over to where his Caretaker was reading a book, sitting comfortably in her station. “Sometimes a little overprotective, but I supposed that’s to be expected when looking after a talking cricket,” he shrugged his small shoulders, before leaning back on his leather chair.

Belle was almost sure that had been a doll’s chair in the past. Everything in his habitat, really, seemed to have been part of a dollhouse at least once in their lifetime. Not that Jiminy minded. He never once complained about the flowery pink tables or the minuscule plastic cups.

“Why do you ask?” Jiminy turned his head to the side and Belle sucked in a deep breath.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” she looked over at Sarah, who waved her another friendly greeting. Belle smiled in response, but her face soon returned to her slight frown, in distant thought. “Mike gets along very well with the dwarves. They even party together after their shift. And Jacqueline is like a lifelong friend of Anton’s,” she recalled, bringing her focus back to Jiminy. “There seems to be that pattern, you know? Caretakers and their respective residents, having this close, friendly relationship”, she pushed another cookie into her mouth, muffling her words, “I even think Ariel is in love with hers!” She paused, swallowing the piece with a heavy sigh, “But…”

She didn’t want to finish. Jiminy nodded to her silence. “’ _Then there’s Ruby’,_ right?”

Belle blushed. She coughed a dry sound and patted her chest, all to avoid choking on her food. After a sufficiently humiliating second, she sighed. “Am I that predictable?” She dared knowing.

Jiminy smiled and his face seemed calm and unjudging. _Gods blessed his understanding nature._

“You worry about her a lot,” he said, leaning forward. “So, tell me. What are you thinking now?”

Belle waited a moment. She wanted her words to sound _right._ Not too desperate, not _too involved._ She wouldn’t want to give Jiminy any more reasons to doubt her aptitude. She was _professional._

“I’m thinking, so far, the worst relationship is between Ruby and Zack,” she settled on her words.

It felt right. Masking deep personal interest with intellectual curiosity allowed for an almost dubious area Belle was comfortable with. The joys of being a journalist — hiding her perpetual questioning behind her work.

“They don’t understand each other!” She said, “Zack treats her like a mad and vicious grizzly bear, and Ruby can’t stand him”

She remembered the many interactions she had had the opportunity to observe from the green hills. Each grunt and yelp was registered in her memory, as the perfect examples of their dynamic. Always unchanging. Always terribly predictable. Always… awful.

Belle sighed, trying to push the images away. _Professional detachment,_ she reminded herself. “They don’t have that closeness that many of you have with your Caretakers. Why is that?”

She looked back at Jiminy, and was surprised to find him involved in profound and stern silence.

If Belle had developed any skill at reading a cricket’s facial expression, she would guess he was conflicted. His antennae bent back and the palps around his mouth — those Belle, to her own amusement, had elected to see as a tiny mustache — were pulled down.

She frowned. “Jiminy?”

He breathed out, snapping back from thoughts, “This kind of relationship can be very complex,” he rubbed his hangs together, “We are behind bars, and they are not. They bring us food and check in with us, similar to both a nurse and a prison guard”

They both watched Sarah flip the pages of her book, engrossed in whatever she was reading. Their combined gaze was a mix of admiration and confusion, all cloaked in hungry curiosity. They were intellectuals, after all.

Jiminy continued, and his voice returned to his usual formal tone, clean and articulate. “It takes some time before we find the right balance and start to get along. It usually starts with seeing each other _beyond_ our rigid labels; Creature and Caretaker”

He hopped towards the plastic plate and retrieved another small piece of a cookie before jumping back onto his chair. Belle watched him without blinking.

“I didn’t really understand Sarah until she opened up to me about feeling trapped in her marriage. I helped her through it and that brought us close. We bridged that gap,” he stared back at Belle and she held his gaze, waiting for his next words, “Maybe Ruby and Zack aren’t there yet”

She breathed out. _That was an understatement._ They were nowhere _near_ seeing each other past their designations. Zack only ever saw Ruby as a dangerous werewolf and Ruby could just see Zack as the guy that ringed her out and served her raw meet.

They were horribly far from bridging the valley that stretched miles between them. Belle wondered if that was even possible — to repair such a damaged relationship.

 _Well, if that was even a relationship at all._ They acted so harsh and hard to each other Belle doubted they even got the chance to be properly introduced. 

 _Oh._ That sounded familiar.

A question crossed her mind and she gave it voice, “How long have you been with your Caretaker?”

Jiminy sulked in thought, then found the answer, “About ten years”

Belle gasped, “Ten years! Wow!” She glanced at Sarah. Smooth face and glowing red hair — she didn’t seem a day over forty. Suddenly, Zack’s baby face made all the sense. “And Zack? How long has he been here?”

Again, Jiminy feel into an anxious silence. Belle knew her questions were daring into sensible territory. Again, she blamed her line of work for her special kind of hunger. Maybe, as well, for her lack of guilt over the reaction.

After a moment, he replied. Voice strangled and torn. “He came in about four months ago”

_There is was._

It was only natural, that Zack would be so uptight and fearful. He had barely had any time to get used to his work and its responsibilities; to get used to _Ruby._ He was young and new to his heavy duties — he was just trying his best.

Belle realized she couldn’t ask much of him. She doubted she would have been much better, in his place. Apart from the ringing and the feeding, her time around Ruby hadn’t exactly evolved into a pristine relationship.

And for a moment she felt compassion for him.

 _Ruby wasn’t being of any help, really._ She didn’t make an effort to ease the poor boy’s nerves. Much like she did not care for wreaking havoc on Belle’s. That was her way, as of late — grumpiness and resistance, until the opposition gave up entirely.

Since Zack didn’t really have the option to walk away from the den and quietly recover in his hotel room, she knew it was a much more complex problem than it seemed.

She scoffed, “No wonder they aren’t best buddies. I’ve been here for two months and can barely hold an amicable conversation with her. And he’s the one bringing her raw meat _,”_ she reflected aloud, and Jiminy reacted with a sharp breath.

“They’re serving her _raw meat?”_ His question was a protest, offended and enraged.

“Yeah,” Belle nodded, intrigued by his surprise, “Why, isn’t that how it usually is?” She frowned. It _couldn’t be_ Zack’s decision only, to make such a change. Surely, Jiminy would know if Ruby had been fed like that before, when they still talked to one another.

His confusion contaminated her.

“No! It _never_ was! It—” He stopped, rubbing his face, “Ruby is _a person, too._ Just because she turns into a wolf, _doesn’t mean—”_ Jiminy was rushing through many different thoughts, and eventually his anxiety bleed into his whole body, making him agitated. He hopped from place to place. “They don’t feed the dragons _live cows_ or the witches _children._ They have normal human meals, when they are in their normal human forms. What a disrespect to Ruby!”

Belle was taken aback by Jiminy’s sudden outburst. The cricket was always composed and calm; it was a surprise to see him show his less courteous side. It only served as a reminder to Belle, of the kind of friendship he and Ruby had in the past.

Her tone was an apology, “I thought you knew”

“Like I said, we don’t talk much anymore,” he huffed, “I don’t know what changes they’re making, now that Zack is watching over her,” he hopped away again, still wrapped in his frustration, “Heavens, that is maddening! Ruby always told me about how much she detests it, in principle. I can’t believe they are treating her like that!”

Belle remained silent, as she watched him mutter and curse at his furniture about all the ways that was _wrong._

She agreed with him, _easily._ As per usual, he was much more eloquent in voicing his worries than Belle would ever be, and she felt supported by his long-winded monologue.

It _was_ a disrespect. It _was_ an injustice, an infringement, an offense. It _was_ all sorts and variations of wrong, to do such a thing. Belle just wished she could memorize all his words, to later reproduce to Zack — or even Mister Gold.

She wished to do something about it — about Jiminy’s protests and Ruby’s situation _and Zack’s passive abuse._

She wished there was more than she could do, besides _worrying._

***

Sitting around the Aquarium and talking to Ariel made it even harder to avoid the _Ruby Topic._

Unlike Jiminy’s Library, the Mermaid’s Habitat was just feet from the Den. If Belle turned her head to the side, she could see the faint glow of the cabin lights.

She tried even harder to stay on question. Thankfully, her talks with Ariel never stayed strictly professional for too long. As soon as one of them managed to make a joke, they derailed from script and talked about anything else.

Belle didn’t mind the distraction.

When the topic asked for it, she pounced on the question. “Are you going to tell Eric?”

Ariel choked on nothing, her face turning as red as her hair as she fumbled for air. _An ironic thought, for a mermaid._

“W-What?” She fell back to the water and splashed her face, in what Belle concluded was the mermaid equivalent to _taking a deep calming breath._

Belle smiled, “That you like him. Are you going to tell him?” Her grin turned into an almost laugh, as she watched Ariel struggle with her embarrassment.

_They were definitely similar._

“I… do _not_!” Ariel attempted to lie and Belle wasn’t quite sure if she was allowed to laugh just yet.

“Sure…” she tempted, biting her lips. The quietness carried the rest of her cynicism until Ariel gave up, hands splashing on the surface of the water in childish defeat.

“Is that obvious?” she pouted.

Belle let her chuckle sound. “ _You sing about him_ ”

“Oh, gods! _Do I?”_ She widened her eyes in a comic panic, looking around in search of her Caretaker — luckily for her, he was watching over the other extreme of the Aquarium. After a long sigh, she whispered. “I need to be more careful”

Belle lifted up her eyebrows. Agreement. “So, will you?” she leaned closed to the glass, her voice a whisper. “I’m sure he likes you back”

Ariel blushed violently again and Belle couldn’t help but giggle until her belly hurt.

Oh, _she missed that._ The easy fun, the silly talks, the innocent gossip. It was like being back to her best days of college, talking to her roommate late at night about nothing at all and laughing until tears rolled down her face.

It was a youthful joy she didn’t experience that often anymore — the inconsequential, foolish fun. She had resigned to the particular, serious joy of adulthood: finding a nice parking spot, having enough money to survive, getting a promotion, having her work recognized, winning a prize or two.

But, this, _silly talks about crushes,_ that was something she didn’t know she had missed.

“You think he likes me back?” Ariel rambled, “I kind of want to, but—oh, I’m afraid!” She dipped up and down the water, “He is so handsome and caring, and… What if I’m just being desperate?! Because he’s the only guy I’ve known for years, and he takes care of me, and I don’t really like him, I’m just… _in need of liking someone?”_

Belle conceded, raising her eyebrows at Ariel’s worries. “You could find out,” she offered, “He is not going anywhere”

Ariel giggled a sound that was both excited and terrified, “Neither am I!” she swam in circles, which Belle _knew_ was her version of pacing.

She was getting good at this, adapting human body language to not so human-like bodies — _that would make an interesting pamphlet._

“Oh, maybe! Maybe” Ariel considered, “I’ll have to think about that. I can’t—can’t rush into things”

“Take your time,” Belle nodded, receiving a pleasant laugh in response.

The nice silence sat in again, as Ariel came down from her excitement back to their usual rhythm of conversation.

It didn’t take long until Belle’s daily battle was lost and she was dragged back to her burning questions — those who burned brighter around the Den.

“How often do Caretakers get fired or… resign?” She surrendered to her curiosity.

Ariel jumped to her shoulders, “Why?” She squealed, “Do you think Eric will get fired for liking me? Or—Or even resign out of disgust?” Ariel’s nerves failed to notice Belle’s arms waving for her to calm down, “Do you think that’s possible?”

The mermaid breathed out, wide eyes starting in panic at Belle. She shook her head, “No! I’m just wondering,” Belle held back an amused grin, “Unrelated to your undying love for Eric”

“Oh,” Ariel calmed down, eyes still trying to recover from shock. A short minute went by, and she was able to answer again. “This is not very common. The payment is _very_ generous. Caretakers get many benefits. I don’t think one would resign”

As Ariel explained, Belle imagined Zack in her mind. In his young years, doing everything he could to ensure his high-paying job. She understood now why he obeyed rules so desperately.

Ariel complemented, “And _get fired_? Well, the screening is rigorous. It is not everyone that gets to be a Caretaker. If one is fired, then they _really_ did something wrong”

Belle frowned. Her mind alone could not come up with the answer, so she resorted to her embarrassing curiosity again.

“What was the case with Ruby’s last Caretaker?”

Ariel froze. Just like Jiminy, a shadow crossed over her face, serious and heavy. Now, Belle could see it clearer — in human features, it was easier to discern. _Sadness._

Ariel’s voice was small, “He moved”

“Moved?” Belle echoed, disbelieving. “And gave up this job?”

Again, Ariel’s face betrayed her words. The light in her eyes became dull and faded, and the smile that shone so brightly before was reduced to a thin line in frowning. It was the truest form of sadness.

Without words, Ariel just hummed and nodded.

Belle insisted, trying to dig through the surface. _Something lied there._

“And Ruby was good friends with him?” She tried, “Is that why she’s sad?”

“Yeah,” her voice was shaky, “He… They were a good pair. He made her laugh like no one before,” Ariel’s lips flickered up in a weak, distant smile and Belle tried to mirror her.

“I see,” she looked down, and felt her gaze be drawn back to the Den. “That’s unfortunate. That he just left her”

The words became stronger to her now, and the sadness in Ariel’s face slowly started to take form and grow clearer.

_Abandonment._

That could leave a hole in someone. That could break someone apart and strip away their confidence, their sense of importance. That felt too much like grieving someone alive. That was the worse form of rejection — being left, without explanation, without a good-bye, without an apology. Like you are not worthy of someone’s mere presence; their simple attention, their weakest excuse.

It hurt. Belle knew it hurt. She knew it the only way someone could truly know pain — by living through it.

She understood, now, why Ruby closed herself off to the world, and why her old friends showed the same sad compassion.

She was in pain, that kind that always took too long to heal. A broken heart.

***

That night, Belle sat at her desk, staring at another rough draft of wrong words and incoherent paragraphs.

She tried to focus on the work ahead of her. The week that awaited her at the dawn of day, the creatures that still needed interviewing and observation. She tried to focus on Mary Margaret’s thorough — much needed — feedback and she tried and tried to write.

Nothing.

Her mind couldn’t focus on letters and words and phrases anymore. She wanted a break, something mindless and easy, to transport her away from the overwhelming responsibility, if only for a moment.

She considered sleep, but the ungodly amount of tea she had drunk to fuel her writing made her body restless and itching. She would toss and turn on the sheets and the sun would rise before she closed her eyes and got proper sleep.

A distraction. She needed a distraction.

As her sigh pulled her head down towards the desk, she rested her chin on her hands. The ticking of the clock counted into the silence, and she stared into the empty space.

She blinked, and when she opened her eyes, her vision focuses pass the many papers and notes, far, to the edges of her bed, where she had thrown her bag upon arrival. Inside it, the plastic case slumped carelessly to the side. Bold red letters reading the final part of the tittle.

 _MONSTERS_ , called at Belle, and she chuckled at the cheesy attempt fate had made. _Subtlety_ wasn’t the universe’s strong suit, it seemed. Not when it came to dropping hints. 

She scoffed at herself, and reached for the movie.

***

Despite the nonsensical plot and the awkward execution, the movie had served as the perfect distraction — and would hopefully work as a wonderful conversation starter.

She knew, the moment she walked to the Den, she would have _something_ to break the silence. Not relying on luck was an improvement, as far as Belle was concerned.

Gradually, their conversations would become less painfully stilted and they would be able to chat like normal people.

Or so Belle hoped.

She decided to drop by the Den later in the afternoon, this time. Wolves were nocturnal creatures and if Ruby’s pillow face at 2pm had been any indication, she shared the trait with her other half.

She praised her deduction skills, when she finally reached her destination to find a fully energized Ruby, running far in the distance amongst the trees. Belle called for her, “Hey, Ruby!” She waved and hoped Ruby would approach. It wouldn't matter that Belle had the perfect ice-breaker, if Ruby just decided to ignore her.

Fortunately, running seemed to improve the girl's mood. Her face held no sign of grudges from the other day, as she slowed down to a walk. Drawing closer to the bars, Ruby’s expressions changed from pure energy to careful calm.

“Hey”, she wiped the thin layer of sweat from her forehead and Belle couldn’t help but notice the light blush that tinted her skin.

She decided not to ogle again. It didn't help the conversation. “I watched it,” she lifted the plastic case in the air, “It’s terrible”

Ruby laughed with the little air she had. The exercise seemed to have stolen some breath from her lungs, as she huffed out her chuckle. The chest exposed by the tank top rose and fall many times, challenging Belle’s resolve _not_ to stare.

Belle licked her lips before continuing, “I can’t believe someone spent _money_ making this,” she faked her most convincingly outraged voice, “And then someone spent _again_ , buying this. This is awful”

Ruby mirrored Belle’s action and licked her lips, bringing back color to the rosy lips. “Art can be awful, just so you know,” she defended, eyes wrinkling and glowing above a smile.

“This is not art!” Belle stomped, and Ruby chuckled at her act. “This is mockery. I am offended that this exists!”

Ruby lifted up her chin. “Well, you don’t know how to appreciate awfulness, then”

“I’m glad,” Belle puffed. A moment went by, and she came down from her exaggerated performance to smile normally again. “Did you read my book? What did you think?”

“I hate to admit it, but it’s very good,” Ruby curved the corner of her mouth up, before nodding, “I couldn’t put it down”

Belle clapped her hands in excitement, only to hiss in guilt as Ruby flinched at the sharp sound.

She quickly recovered, “I told you, you would like it. You’re in debt now, with this cultural exchange,” she pointed an accusing finger to Ruby’s chest, and a dark eyebrow rose over green eyes in amused confusion, “You need to lend me something _good_ to make up for this… _thing_ ”

Ruby shrugged and looked around, offering empty hands to Belle. “I don’t really have anything good to lend you, lady. I do enjoy the bad things”

“Belle”, she said.

Ruby blinked, “What?”

“My name,” she bowed sheepishly, feeling her cheeks warm up. “In case you forgot. I’m Belle”

Ruby rubbed at her temples as her face turned embarrassed. “ _Belle_ , yes,” she frowned, “Sorry”

Belle felt her chest swirl with warmth.

It didn’t occur to her that, up until now, they too hadn’t been properly introduced to one another. The first time they met had been over two months now and, back then, they were still _Journalist and Creature,_ the exact kind of binary distinction that whittled away Ruby and Zack’s relationship.

It was surprising to her, to realize they too had been stuck in those roles. And now, after so long — after the rigidity slowly shed from their dynamic — it felt nice to just be _Belle, fellow person._

She smiled at the end of the long moment, pleased with her little steps. _Patience was indeed a virtue._

“So,” Belle stepped into the quietness, “how do we resolve this? You’re _still_ in debt”

Ruby pursued her lips, “What can I offer you? I don’t have much”, she said, and the sincere apology beneath her voice registered sadly in Belle’s mind.

She kicked the sulking thought away. Again, Ruby didn’t want her pity.

“What about a demonstration?” Belle proposed, enlacing her fingers together in what might have looked genially evil.

Ruby seemed uncomfortable, recoiling slightly at Belle’s low voice. “A demonstration of what?”

Belle welcomed a long second to build suspense, tapping her index finger to her chin. Blue eyes rolled up and then away, in the direction of the Aquarium. When Ruby followed her gaze, she announced.

“Ariel told me she can race you and win” Belle provoked, “I kind of want to see that”

Ruby chuckled, but it sounded shy. Her eyes looked confused, as they averted back to Belle’s hopeful face. “Seriously?” Ruby tried, “I just ran, like, twenty miles back there,” she pointed over her shoulder, dropping her arms to her sides, “I can’t beat her now”

Belle’s lips curved into a teasing grin, a single eyebrow raising, “Are you afraid the loss is going to be too much? Ariel swims miles _every day”_

Ruby crossed her arms over her chest, “You are just teasing me now”

“What?” Belle faked innocence, “I’m asking. She said she beats you every time. And you are always feet behind, panting and humiliated”

It was a harmless lie and Belle knew that. Ariel had never elaborated much on their races, other than mentioning the equally divided victories and defeats. But Belle figured the shadow of pride she had found in Ruby would be contented with a little challenge.

The wolf in her — human or animal in its _wolfness_ , — wouldn’t turn down a chance to prove itself. And Belle wouldn’t turn down a chance to see it.

Upon Belle’s provocation, Ruby seemed to stand taller, shoulders squared and head held high. Her eyes, more alive, shining close to gold. “She said that?” There was a smile in her voice, and Belle knew the tenacity steaming inside was nothing but playful.

“Yep,” Belle bit her lips, “She even said this should go on her board, in front of the Aquarium: _'Can beat an werewolf any day of the week’”_

The reaction of offense in Ruby’s face was hilarious and Belle hoped Ariel would forgive her for the piling lies. _She had good intentions, she swore._

“You’re kidding me,” Ruby’s voice was low, now.

“Dead serious,” Belle crossed her heart and Ruby seemed to battle with a decision. Eventually, her pride won over her exhaustion, and she conceded.

“Okay, okay. If that’s how she thinks, _I’ll prove it to her”_

Belle’s eyes sparkled. _Victory!_ She chanted in her mind.

With a beat, Ruby turned to the Aquarium, covering the distance to her running track with long strides.

As expected, Belle struggled to keep up, circling the bars and avoiding the obstacles outside the Den, trying not to lose sight of Ruby. Only after the girl was already standing and pacing in place, Belle arrived.

The running track extended by the edges of the Den, close to the narrow path that divided her habitat from the Aquarium. No more than ten feet separated the two areas and Belle started wondering how many exciting races took place there, in that little alley.

Her attention was drawn back to Ruby when she heard the girl call. “Hey, Ariel?” She held her hands to her mouth and called again and again, until Ariel’s unexceptional hearing took notice.

Belle wished she could have framed that moment.

The second Ariel swam to the glass, upon hearing her name called. The _look_ on the poor mermaid’s face — a raw mixture of fear and confusion, which turned into pure shock as she realized it was _Ruby_ calling her.

She stopped in place abruptly, as if she had just seen an apparition. Mouth gaping like a fish — which, Belle admitted, was a much suitable expression for a mermaid — and bright eyes wide in surprise.

Ariel didn’t expect to see Ruby there. Not so soon, not so friendly, not so alive.

“What… what happened?” She kept switching her attention from Ruby to Belle, expecting —urging — an explanation. Belle could only imagine the drastic scenarios Ariel was coming up with in her head to justify the encounter.

“So you told Belle here that you can win _every time, any day?_ ” Ruby rested her hands on her hips. Her face was sharpened with defiance, eyes squinted and teeth showing. “That I’m left panting and humiliated? _How dare you?”_

Despite the vivacity in Ruby’s face, she was playful. Ariel’s worry was almost visible as it dissolved from her body. Her shoulders melted all her tensions away and her face curved into a relieved smile.

She quickly seemed to put the pieces together in her mind, her eyes gazing at Belle. _“You did this?”_ was the mute question in her features, starting into Belle’s soul. Slowly, it followed. A slight nod and a lovely smile. _“Thank you”_

Belle smiled back. Words weren’t needed.

“That’s right,” Ariel turned her attention back to Ruby, building her own strong and challenging front, “What, is it a _lie?”_ She leaned forward, hands following Ruby’s lead and resting on her hips. “Are you _not_ exhausted and embarrassed after losing to me? Every time?” Ariel teased and Ruby growled despite her blushing cheeks.

“I don’t lose _every time_ and you know that,” Ruby shot her hand up, an accusing finger aiming for Ariel’s head. “I’ve beat you on two legs more times than I can count”

The mermaid swam closer to the glass, until they were at eye level, staring each other down like gladiators ready for a fight. “That’s not how I recall it. Many times, I looked back and you were leaning on your leg elbows— your _knees_ , with no dignity left!”

Belle muffled a laugh. No _movie in the world would have been as entertaining as that._ She was beginning to consider _she_ would be the one in debt, after all.

“Okay!” Ruby huffed, “Let’s see if that’s true, then. Let’s race right now,” she pointed to her running track, “And when I win, I’ll tell my Caretaker to update my board with a new addition to the list: _Special Abilities, Making Mermaids Cry”_

Belle couldn’t keep her giggles silent, but luckily for her, they were both too engrossed in each other to mind her amused watch.

“Perfect,” Ariel apparently could not come up with a comeback, so she settled for her usual pout. “We’re on”

“Perfect,” Ruby echoed in another low growl.

Belle swore she could hear the epic music in the background, as they prepared their stances for the race. They carried an impressive familiarity in their movements, knowing perfectly were to stand to start, and how to wait for each other.

Belle was glad she took the risk. That was a once-in-a-lifetime event to witness. A race between a mermaid and a werewolf.

 _If only Mary Margaret were there to see it, she would cry_. Belle could barely hold herself from squealing in excitement.

“Belle?”

The voice cut like lightening through her marveled trance, and she blinked back to attention. When she realized it, Ruby looking at her over her shoulder.

“Yes?” Belle’s response was shy.

Ruby gestured to the track ahead. “Can you be the starter? I’m starting to doubt this _one’s_ honesty,” she nudged her head to Ariel, who poked out her tongue.

Belle giggled. “Sure! Okay”

 _Not only she was witnessing the race of a lifetime, she was starting it._ Mary Margaret would envy her forever.

“On your marks!”

She announced, and the two positioned themselves, like masters of their art.

“Get set!”

They prepared, each muscle gathering impulse.

“Go!”

And they disappeared like a blur.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters at once because, fuck me, I'm a slow writer and I have to make up for it.
> 
> Enjoy.

Belle didn’t wait long to return to the Den.

She _couldn’t_ wait, even if she wanted to. The race from the day before consumed her thoughts and stole precious sleep from her restless — but excited — mind.

She couldn’t stop thinking about it; how comfortable with each other Ruby and Ariel had seemed; how the old ways of their friendship quickly shone back to life after the initial shock; how happy they both looked, after they returned to the starting place to meet with Belle.

They had radiated that sparkly and joyful energy that contaminated Belle and now she couldn’t help but think about it, again and again.

She knew the residents managed to form bonds with each other, their Caretakers and, beyond, with the different creatures around them. She knew it was possible, for them to venture with friendships beyond their own kind.

Grumpy had told her all about it, how their close proximity with the Giant’s Cave allowed them to become friends; and how the Fairies could understand the eccentric language of the Wisps; and how the Ogres and the Cyclops showed great complimentary traits that helped them unite a diverse community. Ruby and Ariel weren’t the only ones befriend their neighbors.

She knew the creatures could coexist with each other if given the chance. They weren’t all territorial beasts, like most people preferred to see them. They could be social, even the most unsocial of them, _even Ruby._

And the fact that their friendly interactions could _improve_ their individuals lives filled Belle with a warm sense of security and satisfaction, because it allowed her to trust that, even if they didn’t have the kind of freedom _she_ had, they still lived — or at least were able to live — happy lives.

It eased her constant worries about liberty, as it assured her that, even if they didn’t have that, they had _something._ They weren’t completely miserable, left to live and die alone in their own confinements. That was a silver lining.

And as her mind was now trained to do, she started thinking about Ruby and what it all meant to the girl, to have that kind of possibility — a friend, someone to be with her, through her hardship; someone to remind her she wasn’t all alone, despite what she could so often feel.

It must have meant the world to her, to have someone to talk to, after so long — after a heartbreak. A small light in the darkest place, shining faint, but unceasing.

Ariel had been that and Belle desperately wanted to add to that light, make it brighter and brighter until Ruby could find her way back again.

She wanted to help her.

And that was something Belle French could never fight.

***

She walked to the silver bars with her bag in hands, weighting heavier than usual. She puffed out a breath of exhaustion before calling to Ruby.

The girl lied comfortably on the grass, head resting on her arms, watching the slow movement of the clouds in the sky. The gifted hearing seemed to have alerted her of Belle’s steps, and she rolled on her side to look at the bars.

Belle curved a content smile on her face, pleased to see immediate reaction to her arrival. Gone were the days she had scream for attention. “So, you’re _very_ fast”

Ruby greeted her with a friendly smirk and a slight nod, standing up from the grass and tossing away a half-eaten apple.

Long strides of pale legs brought her close to the bars, standing just inches from Belle. She could smell her again. The scent of fruit and grass and sunlight.

“Told you,” Ruby cocked her head forward, flashing Belle a proud grin. “Faster than Ariel, and that’s all that really matters,” she crossed her arms over her chest, tossing her hair back in the perfect picture of a smug winner.

Belle raised an eyebrow, not entirely surprised. _Proud wolf indeed._ “Competitive much?”

“I had a reputation to uphold and my honor to defend,” Ruby clarified, seeming devoted to her act — never uncrossing her arms or lowering her chin until she heard Belle giggle and admit her victory.

“Of course, how silly of me,” Belle nodded.

Once more, the comfortable silence fell like a blanket over them, quieting their chuckles and easing their smiles. Belle never felt more at home, in that particular silence.

Ruby, however, seemed to have grown conscious of the quiet seconds, blinking the big green eyes back to the present, away from Belle. She cleared her throat before speaking again, thumb pointing back to her cabin as she asked, “Did you come to take your book? I’m done with it, if you want it back”

“No, no!” Belle mirrored her and tried to regain her sobriety. “No rush. You can read it again, if you want. I know I did”, Belle offered another smile. This time, the silence was brief. A deep breath and she was ready to confess. “I just came to say hello”

The green eyes shone in surprise and frowned in confusion before easing back into a tentative smile. “Hello”

Belle accepted it. Even with all the doubts and reservations, it was still something _._ She nodded, “Hello”

The persistent silent started turning awkward when Ruby finally spoke. Her voice still uneasy, “How is your… research going?” She tried, “You seem to have been having a lot of free time recently”

Belle let out a laugh that was more of an apology. _For someone who cared so much about being professional, she had been notably relaxed around the Den._

“I’m slowly finishing it,” she explained, “Some residents are more available than others…”

It was a simple observation — a spoken thought — Belle meant nothing by, but it made Ruby react with suspicion.

A dark eyebrow rose, “I see”

Belle shook her head, “Don’t worry. I meant what I said before, you are not a subject,” she promised and watched as Ruby’s face slowly let go of the thin and worn out layer of defense. “Those who read it will never know you even live here,” she assured her, “You’re safe in the unknown”

If being a werewolf meant having some higher sense for spotting lies, Belle would never know. All she was sure of was that Ruby didn’t need much more to believe her word. The girl just looked her up and down for a second, before nodding, with a small smile tempting her eyes. “Thank you for that”

Belle shrugged. “Not a problem. It was the least I could do,” she smiled and Ruby promptly returned the gesture. The stillness stretched for a moment, until Belle felt the urge to speak again. One hand grasping the other while she searched for the right words. “You know, this guy that works with me…” She started, pausing as if she walked on unsteady ground. Maybe, she did. “My boss wanted to send him here, to interview you, but I refused. You would hate him”

“Yeah?” Ruby seemed interested. Although quiet, her face showed the kind of curiosity Belle had been hoping for. She accepted that opportunity.

“He is… _difficult,_ ” Belle explained, “I mean, he can be polite and he works very hard — he’s a determined man, but…” She stared at the empty space by Ruby’s side, the right words getting harder and harder to find as she tried to avoid that all familiar irritation that came with the thought of him. “He can be stubborn and sort of suffocating”

“Oh” Ruby leaned forward, green eyes narrowed in attention.

“Also, a flirter!” Belle continued, enjoying the feeling of sparkling Ruby’s interest. “He flirts _way too much._ You would get annoyed”

Ruby curved a knowing smile on rosy lips, the playful tone in her eyes teasing Belle. “It sounds like he was more than a coworker at some point”

_Werewolves are perceptive,_ she noted mentally. Either that, or Belle was just as stupidly transparent as Ruby. The odds were not in her favor.

She arched her eyebrows high on her face, making her reaction as dramatic as possible. “Biggest mistake I’ve ever made,” Belle said, and waited for Ruby’s chuckle to continue. “We were a couple for a long time. Three long years, actually”

Ruby hummed an impressed note, eyes wide and captivated by her words.

Belle sighed. “We were slowly entering a tough phase in our relationship, I guess,” she remembered, while her eyes wandered up to the blue sky, getting lost in bitter gray memories of that time. It had happened so long ago, but it always had a way of feeling awfully recent.

She breathed out, her voice sounding close to a grunt.  She had never been able to recall that story without feeling heavy, in some way. Every time was the same, the distant images of another life, creeping back to haunt her.

This time, hopefully, all that trouble would serve a purpose.

“It was nothing out of the ordinary, really,” she continued, “Just normal relationship problems. Dirty dishes, crappy friends and bad communication”

“The unholy trinity”, Ruby was careful to comment, winning a smile from Belle’s grumpy face.

“The warning signs,” Belle nodded, forcing her smile to stay on. It must not have been very convincing, as Ruby’s face slowly turned a shade of concern. Belle felt vulnerable, now — her arms holding her own body for protection. Foolish, but a habit nonetheless. “One day, after this big, loud fight… He left me”

She breathed in. The air felt colder, like sharp knives entering her lungs. It was not the same pain as before — it didn’t hurt as much. It was dull, distant and fading, but it was still there somewhere, refusing to disappear entirely.

She never got rid of it, that feeling of being less than nothing to someone she once considered more than anything. It had once been a crushing ache stalking through the days, but, eventually, the constant and vigorous battles with herself conquered something.

To finally talk about it for the first time had helped — it unleashed the pressure she fought so hard to keep in, like releasing water from a dam. She had felt better, _lighter,_ after and it gave her the strength she needed to escape her darkest places.

The pain lingered, but she was sure it would be gone completely in time. All she had to do was face it, every time it tried to challenge her.

Healing was a slow process, but it was a necessary step, a vital start. It took time, but it had to be done. With any luck, Ruby would understand it.

Belle forced herself to continue. “He… left me a note that read ‘ _I’m sorry to leave like this, but I have to find myself and be a better man for you’_ , _”_ she bit her lips. She could still feel the bitter taste it left in her tongue, to remember that awful note. A long sigh, and she persisted, “No goodbye, no official break-up, nothing. Just a letter on a magnet, it was all I was worth, at the end of _three years_ ”

The silence was gentle, swaying away Belle’s old and heavy memories like wind blowing leaves to the distance.

Ruby was cautious to step forward and fill the emptiness. “That sucks. I’m sorry,” she offered. It was crooked and awkward, cloaked in shyness, but it was honest.

Belle glanced up to meet the green eyes that watched so carefully over her.

She felt like porcelain under her gaze and as warming as the thought was — to have Ruby caring about her —, it felt almost embarrassing. A self-inflicted humiliation, to expose herself so easily and so pitifully to a person who just weeks ago wanted her miles away.

_When did it come to that?_ She laughed nervously. Now was not the time to feel ashamed.

Belle tried to cover her blushing cheeks, running her hands through her hair. “He _found_ himself when he started working at The Author. Funny, for someone unable write a half-decent apology, he had always been a good writer. And the first time the had the courage to talk to me — after five years of silence! — was to offer me a job there. I couldn’t refuse, it’s the perfect job for me and I hate if that I’m thankful to him for that, but, still…” She locked her jaw, “What he did was shitty”

Ruby pursued her lips in a thin line, “It was,” she frowned, in what Belle knew was the most genuine sympathy. “I’m sorry that happened to you”

Belle thanked her in a smile.

It was a freeing sensation, to speak about it and be sincerely listened to, _understood._ It soothed her, in a way her friends, her therapist, her _parents,_ never could. For as truthful as their concerns were, they just didn’t get it. They hadn’t felt the same, so they just offered Belle a shoulder to cry on.

With Ruby, it was different. She _lived it._ She knew it. She felt the same — she was still in that dark place Belle struggled so hard to escape. Ruby’s care wasn’t just comforting, it was reassuring.

Now, Belle had done her part. It was Ruby’s turn to trust her, to share her pain and move forward. To start healing.

“So, you know… I kind of get it,” Belle insisted, her drifting mind landing back on the present to hold Ruby’s heavy gaze. “I mean — not _everything,_ because I could never understand living like you live,” she gestured to the bars and it was unsettling to see Ruby keep her eyes on her, unmoving, unshaking. “But, uh, a broken heart,” Belle swallowed, firming her feet on the ground, “That, I understand”

Ruby frowned for a second, her eyes losing part of their light as they scanned Belle’s in confusion.

Determined, Belle didn’t waver. She was used to working with some resistance. “So, if you ever want to talk to me about matters like that, _I’m all ears._ You can trust me,” she swore, lowering her voice so the promise remained as private as possible, “I know how important it is, to be listened to and truly understood”

Ruby’s glare deepened, transforming confusion into defense. The thick armor was building itself again, tensing up her shoulders and pulling back her body — stepping back, without leaving her place.

She shook her head, “What are you saying?”

Belle walked closer, unwilling to surrender her chance. “You know,” she gestured to Ruby, and once again, the girl’s focus did not falter, attentive to the slightest movement of her body. How frightening it was, to be under her defensive watch. “Your broken heart,” Belle gulped, “I went through something like that, so—”

“No, no, no” Ruby marched closer to the bars, the heavy boot stumping on the grass with a sudden thud that shook Belle’s bones. “What are you _saying?_ ”

Ruby’s lips curled up and Belle saw the teeth grind under the tight pressure on her jaw. _Anger._

“What do you think you’re saying? _You went through something like that?_ Are you mocking me?”

A breath was sucked into her lungs before Belle could stop it. The reaction was visceral, taking over her body. She didn’t want to, but she felt it, at last — _fear._ Her skin felt thinner and her muscles, tighter. Her bones wanted to run and hide.

She hadn’t prepared for that, for the anger. Resistance and denial, perhaps, but not anger. _That_ anger _,_ raw and anxious, like an animal cornered, showing teeth and guarding ground.

Maybe Ruby felt fear, too.

But, _why?_

Belle stuttered, “Not at all! I—”

“Who said anything about a broken heart, then?” Ruby growled low in her throat, “What do you think you know about Peter?”

“Peter?” Belle blinked, urging her body to relax. She shouldn’t fear Ruby, not when she wanted to help her. Unfortunately, her effort to disarm herself only made her arms tremble and her voice shake, “Is that the name of your last Caretaker? Yeah, I—” She bit her lip again, this time to keep it from shaking. “I know he abandoned you, and I wanted to say that—that I’m here if you ever want to talk about that, you know? Vent. Just like normal people. Over wine and cheese and stuff like that” Green eyes flashed in a sharp color, “N-Nothing too formal, just two frien— _people_ sharing stories”

Ruby didn’t blink. The tense body stumbled backwards a few steps, under the uneasy sound of Belle’s voice.

“That type of thing can hurt,” Belle gripped the bars, as Ruby paced back further into the Den. The slender frame shook, as if her body was in a fight with itself, caught in conflicting impulses. She wasn’t ready to leave yet. And Belle wasn’t ready to let her. “I know I could use some company when I went through my break-up—”

_“Belle”_

Ruby’s voice was low. It cracked into a whisper and Belle knew that sound was purely human. No growl or snarl would ever sound so small and so broken. The pained expression grew only sadder, as Ruby inhaled and let her chest fall, releasing pressure.

“We didn’t _break up_ ,” Ruby shut her eyes, as if the shattered and rough sound of her own voice was too loud for her to hear.

The pale features contorted in agony, eyes pressed shut with so much force Belle believed her pain urged its way out, ripping through her skull. Physical and unavoidable.

Ruby whispered in a strangled breath, _“I ate him”_

_I ate him._

_Belle._

The screaming of the emptiness deafened Belle. She heard only her own breathing, becoming erratic and sharp, as she tried to find the words to pull Ruby back, to call her, to stop her, to _just — get her to open her eyes again._

She tried, but her throat closed and her feet refused to move. The fear filled every inch of her and she was left to stand and watch, as Ruby broke down from the inside out.

The girl stumbled back again and barely caught herself, steading her shivering body on weak steps. She was trembling, hands locked into fists in front of her chest, shaking violently as they tried in vain to hold her shoulders.

The pain overflowed her, leaving her body in a broken sob that shuddered her chest.

Before Belle could utter anything, Ruby was gone. On trembling feet, she escaped into the cabin, slamming the door shut.

Belle stood there and listened to the muffled cry in the distance.

The sobs turned into grunts and the grunts turned violent. Thought furious breaking of wood and ripping of metal, Belle heard a thundering growl rise.

It slowly died, dissolving into a long and painful howl.

That night, it was the only sound echoing in Belle’s mind.

***

She knew she couldn’t hear it. Not really. The howls had disappeared into the distance hours ago, but now, as she settled into the warmth of her blankets and the silence of her room, she could hear it again, like a ghostly echo.

It was beastly, in a way. So raw and rough and primal — and for all the same reasons, it was _so human._ It screamed with so much pain and misery.

That, Belle knew, was what lurked in her. That was the pain beneath her skin. That was what weighted in her, what made Ruby so utterly and painfully _sad._

It didn’t have a name.

It was not grief, not abandonment, not a heartbreak, not fury. It was all of it, all together, and yet, not quite that. Deeper, darker. Not a dark place, but darkness itself.

And as quickly as their bond had formed, it had dissipated. Belle could no longer understand her pain. She would be just another person, offering an empty promise of recovery and comfort, without really grasping the magnitude of her suffering.

Belle would just be one more failed attempt. Another helping hand for Ruby to refuse. Another shallow effort to help, another fruitless end. One more person to be ignored.

_She couldn’t even name it._ How foolish was she, to think she could mend it, heal it, help it?

She could do nothing, but listen to the dead echo of Ruby’s howl.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No cliffhanger from this gal.

A deep sigh threatened to suffocate Belle, as the sound of her breathing vanished slowly into the sound of the waves.

Ariel took the chance and broke the thick silence.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” the mermaid expelled in a breath, tilting her head towards the darkened sand. “I… This is my fault, Belle. I’m sorry”

“No, no, this is on me,” Belle breathed out again, hollowing her chest. She couldn’t stand this anymore, that hollow and terrible feeling. “I pushed it,” she admitted, fingers nervously grasping the edges of her shirt. She could barely look up. She couldn’t risk her eyes wandering to the Den. “Again, I—I tried too hard to get to know her. She said she didn’t want me asking about her, but I did it anyway”

Her moan sounded irritated, this time. An irritation triggered by nothing but her own self — always so righteous, so impulsive, so arrogant; so confidently believing that everything she does is for a greater good, for a noble cause; that she is some sort of _hero,_ some sort of needed reparation to poor mistreated souls.

She was an idiot. Plain and simple.

Behind all her efforts to be professional and virtuous, she had been an idiot, moved by wonder and curiosity to the limits of what was appropriate, of what was respectful.

She had been invasive, stubborn, _stupid._ She did not deserve Ariel’s pity — or her _own,_ for that matter. She deserved reprimand. She should not be praised _nor_ excused for being a smothering, disrespectful, _meddling_ narcissist with a savior complex.

Anger was starting to burn inside her chest, and she clutched the fabric of her shirt to stop her hands from shaking.

_Idiot._

“Gods, I was so careless and intrusive! I… I offered to talk to her over _wine and cheese!”_ She spat her words, wanting nothing more than to dive into the sand and disappear, “Ariel, what did I do!? I’m despicable!”

 “No, Belle! You didn’t know,” Ariel leaned forward. “You thought you were mending a broken heart,” she tried, and Belle could sense in her voice, the caution and the doubt. Maybe she, too, doubted Belle’s intentions. Maybe she, too, found Belle to be an insufferable brat.  “You thought you were mending an… _ordinary_ broken heart. You _couldn’t_ have known. She…”

“She must be furious!” Belle shook her head, finally forcing herself to meet Ariel’s eyes. She saw her own troubled expression mirrored on the girl’s. “And so _hurt._ Gods, I ruined everything! I should let her be. I should give up entirely!” Ariel tried to counter, but Belle insisted, “I should! I should never try anything ever again!”

The second passed by her in a long, agonizing moment.

“But, I still have to apologize. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t—”

“Look, Belle,” Ariel dared and pushed herself further on the sand, until her hand touched the glass Belle leaned so heavily on, “You were helping her,” Belle shook her head in defeat, “You _were_. She hadn’t raced with me in months!” Ariel managed to smile, letting a nervous laugh escape her lips, as Belle looked up at her. “She never got excited over reading a new book. She never got to talk about her terrible movies, she… she was getting better. You were helping her”

Ariel’s effort drew a weak smile on her lips, but it didn’t last long. Belle scoffed. “And I ruined it, Ariel. I pushed too hard, too soon. I should have waited, but—I wanted to help”

Ariel nodded, offering Belle a gentle look. “She knows you did. She does. She is just hurting too much right now,” she explained, and Belle once again heard the faded echo of the wounded howl in her mind, abandoned and hurt. “She never talked about it, she _shut_ everyone and everything out. This is the first time, after it happened, so… give her time,” Ariel asked, pressing her lips together, “That’s part of it”

Belle’s smile lacked strength, but she held it despite everything.

Ariel wanted to comfort her and Belle should her let. Of course, _she_ wasn’t the one in need of comfort — she wasn’t the one thrashing into the woods, growling and howling her pain to the skies.

 _She_ didn’t need comfort. If anything, she wasn’t _worthy_ of any comfort. She deserved to feel what she felt; the dreaded emptiness and the distant sadness. It was the price she had to pay, for pushing Ruby so far into that abyss again.

She wished Ariel could comfort _her,_ reach out to _her._ Be her friend again, laugh and joke with her again. Race again, be _happy again._ She wished Ariel could be the friend Belle had tried and failed to be.

Belle French did not deserve to be friends with Ruby, not after what she had done.

The anger rose again and she held on to it, letting it wreak havoc in her.

With error came guilt and with guilt, that self-loathing anger. And she would have to endure it, if she wanted to repair the damage she had inflicted.

She needed to apologize.

***

So she had tried, to no avail.

Ruby wouldn’t listen to her. In fact, Ruby wouldn’t even show up to meet her. Belle couldn’t properly remember the last time she had seen Ruby walk by the closest paths of the Den.

No. That was a lie — she _could remember it._ It had been that day, when she ruined everything. When she tried too hard and destroyed what little progress she had made.

That had been the last time she saw Ruby.

After that, Belle could only hear her. In growls and howls, screaming and thrusting through the darkest trees.

She had never seen Ruby in her human skin since.

So she tried to give her space. If a distressed wolf could want anything, it would be space, to think or to rage — it didn’t matter. For Ruby, someone so used to loneliness, even one person trying to help could be suffocating, so Belle would respect that one simple wish hidden in so many howls.

She would let her be, for now.

***

Belle continued her work in the Park.

Despite all, she still had much to do and she couldn’t allow herself the luxury of using of her precious time in the Park to tend to personal matters. Because, whether she liked to admit it or not, that was what Ruby meant. A personal matter.

Belle had no professional relation to her, not after the decision had been final, to exclude her from the writings. Ever since that call, her meetings and conversations with Ruby had been entirely personal, moved by her own desire to just _know the damn girl._

Those not-so-professional encounters had culminated into what was now her reality: having to pretend not to hear every howl and feel any pain.

She had to push through her days, in an uncomfortable disguise of apathy, lying about her distressed frown, her long sighs and her distracted eyes.

She had to continue to follow a script, asking question after question, dodging triggers and digging deeper, until she got her response. All the days that followed, were the same as before. _Perfectly professional._

With the exception of that unending howl in the distance, echoing in the whole Park.  

After a while, it became difficult to ignore. Everyone knew Ruby was acting out, everyone had been warned about the wolf refusing to rest.

The Caretakers whispered amongst themselves about it; how uneasy it made them feel and how unlucky was Zack, to have to deal with such an _unbalanced creature_. They exchanged looks, every time Belle walked past them, failing to hide their morbid curiosity at the journalist’s gray mood.

Maybe they were putting the pieces together, at last. Maybe they had realized Belle had played a part in the wolf’s — _in Ruby’s —_ pain. Maybe they knew Belle had the one who brought it to the surface once more.

They had to know. The way they looked at her, over their shoulders, eyes careful not to stare for too long, eager to steal looks whenever possible — they were gossiping about her.

Even Aurora, the nice Fairy Caretaker, gave in to the pressure and risked her subtlety to ask her about Ruby.

 _“Have you heard any news about the werewolf?”_ She had asked, in a reluctant whisper. Belle just shook her head, robbed of all her usual light and smile. That had prompted another question, _“Are you okay?_ ” Which, too, had gone unanswered.

Belle refused to talk about it. She had ruined enough by asking around about Ruby. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again, and _share_ the girl’s most intimate pain to probing eyes.

She would protect Ruby’s right to grief in _peace, for once._

However, as the days went on, not even the creatures were as impassive as before. Ruby’s wolf had started to disrupt many, many habitats.

_“The more animalistic creatures are especially sensitive to each other,”_

Jiminy had explained one day, when the topic became unavoidable.

 _“They don’t speak the same language of course — dragons and ogres are not the same, for example —, but they understand each other’s_ rawness _better than a human mind can,”_

He had glanced in that all too familiar direction again, and Belle refused to follow his eyes. She didn’t want to find her.

_“That’s why the cyclops are so agitated, lately. I just hope, for her sake, that she’ll calm down. The Director doesn’t deal well with prolonged disturbances”_

Belle had closed her eyes at that. She didn’t dare to imagine what they would do to Ruby, to keep the precious peace among the creatures.

She knew a place so quiet and obedient wouldn’t be possible without a strong management, and she decided not to dwell on Mister Gold’s many different methods of control.

Belle didn’t want to think about their containment measures, their protocols, their punishments.

She couldn’t bare the thought of any more pain coming Ruby’s way at the moment. It wasn’t _fair,_ that she couldn’t even _suffer_ in peace, without interfering, without constant watch, without feeling repressed and controlled.

Again, the guilt stabbed at her insides. Belle knew she was no innocent. She had committed many of the crimes she now so easily decided to appall. It was hypocritical of her to condemn them now, after she had tried them all.

Still, she wouldn’t stand by and let that be it. She had witnessed one too many vicious cycles poison Ruby’s life. She wouldn’t cross her arms and watch was yet another _stupid protocol_ was put into motion to further invade the poor girl’s rights.

All it took to dismantler her fake apathy was one failed interview, at a habitat near the Den.

One lost question she tried to get across to the cyclops. One time, she repeated herself over the thundering growl, only to watch as the towering beasts ran to seek cover from the Wolf’s warning cry. 

It had left her speechless, with an empty feeling of dread. _Even they were scared of her._

It couldn’t be long until an executive decision was made, to silence Ruby and return the passive quietness to all habitats.

Belle French wouldn’t let that happen.

***

Deep breaths didn’t really help her raging nerves, but they filled her with some fleeting calm. It never lasted for long, but they were an entertaining lie to her racing heart.

As her feet brought her to the Den, she started feeling her hands sweat and her throat dry.

_She could do it. She had rehearsed it._

She’d discarded nearly a dozen drafts of the apology until she decided on the one now safely memorized. It was not too pitiful, not to cold. It was okay. It was pleasant to the ears, as far as apologies went. It was appropriate. It was ready. _She was ready._

She arrived at the Den.

 _She was not ready._ She would never be ready to face that girl.

Every time, it was like entering a dark room, feeling her way around, with no clue what to expect at every corner. And, _sure,_ the transparent green eyes and the betraying posture were good compasses to help her navigate, but they still didn’t guarantee her success. _That much was obvious, now._

She breathed in again. Brief calm, followed by raw anxiety. _That was as ready as she was ever going to be._

The silence rose and the birds chirped. The afternoon was too bright and beautiful for the occasion. Belle had imagined it happening under pouring rain and gentle thunder. It almost felt incomplete, to endure the punishment under such a non-compliant weather.

Only then, she realized it. _It was silent. The birds were chirping._ Ruby was human again.

Belle swallowed one more time. This was her chance — bright and beautiful scenery or not, she had to do it. It couldn’t wait another minute.

“Ruby,” she called. She knew she didn’t have to raise her voice to be heard. It was in times like these, she was thankful for the gifted hearing. “Ruby, I’m…” Her heart sped up, and she tried the old trick her mother had taught her and she held it in her palm. Hands pressed to her chest, she gulped and continued, “I’m sorry”

The silence swung again, but it sounded deeper. The birds had gone quiet, meaning they sensed Ruby’s presence somewhere. _Jiminy was right, about nature having its way of communication._

She only wished she, too, could hear what they heard. She wished she could hear Ruby.

The quietness persisted, and Belle decided not to wait for a response. There was nothing Ruby had to say to her; nothing Belle needed to hear from her. It was Belle who needed to speak.

She who needed to apologize.

Ruby just… Well, Ruby just needed to listen.

_No. She didn’t even need to give Belle the time or attention. Ruby needed to do nothing._

All that it was, was a wish. Belle’s stupidly hopeful wish, to have her apology heard. Only then, she would sleep soundly again.

“I’m sorry, Ruby” Belle cleared her throat. Those breaks weren’t helping her case. The more she waited, the harder it became. Time was against her. “I… didn’t know. I crossed a line. I was trying to be helpful, to—to be there for you in a dark time I was naive enough to think was just… just _a break-up,”_ she tried not to scoff at herself. She didn’t need more reasons to feel pathetic.

The lights flickered on inside the cabin, and Belle’s heart stopped. For a second that seemed eternal, she waited for Ruby to come out and meet her, but she never came.

 _She doesn’t need to meet you,_ Belle reminded her silly mind. _It’s you who have to apologize. Just like you rehearsed._

Her fingers gripped the collar of her shirt, and the beating in her chest became dull, “I had no idea what you were really going through. I was reckless to assume. I was reckless to push. And I—I invaded your space and hurt you. I brought memories to the surface that you probably wanted to forget, and… I’m sorry for that. _I’m so terribly sorry”_

She heard creaking of wood, and she demanded her hopeful heart to stay still. _She wasn’t done. She wasn’t forgiven. She didn’t deserve relief, not now._

She shut her eyes and focused on her words. The lines became faded, as she struggled to remember what she had written so many times the day before. _She said it to the mirror. She should be able to remember it now!_

Belle pressed her lips together, but no words came. It was useless to try and remember, now.

She sighed, giving up her speech. What she felt now was probably more honest than whatever she had felt writing alone in her room. _This,_ she thought, _was true._

“I understand if you don’t want to see me ever again, or… or _talk_ to me ever again. Truly, I do,” she opened her eyes, only to see the light had been turned off again. Her heart fell, but she persisted. “I just wanted to come here and apologize, honestly and from the bottom of my heart, before I went crazy on my hotel room, thinking of all the mistakes that I made—” she stopped herself. Ruby didn’t need to listen to her whining. Belle didn’t deserve pity. “I am sorry”

She heard a footstep weight on the hollow wooden boards. _This would be the death of her!_

“I hope…” Belle held her arms around her body, keeping the shivers in. “I hope you recover from this. Not—Not to forgive, or anything! But, for you” she nodded to herself.

That was the purest truth, and she hoped Ruby would know it. She meant it with all her heart.

“The people here, they really like you,” Belle felt a shy smile ease her face, and her eyes slowly found their way to the Aquarium, where the waves crashed in a smoothing background noise. “You bring them joy,” she said, and the image of Ariel’s beaming smile filled her mind.

She had never seen the mermaid so happy before — and seeing as easily excitable as Ariel was, that was saying much. It only spoke to the depths of their friendship, the joy she saw on the girl’s face. _Ruby had done that. And she could do that again._

“I know this is part of you, still. So I wish, sincerely, that you get better”

She heard nothing then. Not a single breath, not one movement.

The silence was eating at her and she knew she wouldn’t see Ruby again.

 _It was okay,_ she tried to tell herself, _Ruby didn’t owe her that — didn’t owe her anything._ It was Belle who was in debt and now she had paid her due. She had nothing else to do there.

_Gods, the silence was never crueler._

“You can have my book, as a gift,” she mumbled and stuttered. Her voice was giving up on her — that was her cue to leave. “Just know that I’m sorry, okay?”

She stared at the emptiness one more time, before gathering her will to leave.

It would be a rough night to sleep, but it would be for the better.  Ruby didn’t need Belle’s presence anymore and Belle had to focus on her work — that irresponsible _personal matter_ had stretched for way too long and if that was the end of it, _it would be okay._

If that was how they parted ways, it was something Belle would live with. At least the weight had been relieved from her chest.

She turned to leave, but a voice stopped her on her tracks.

“Has anyone told you that you apologize too much?”

Belle spun on her heels, facing the Den again. The sight of Ruby nearly put her off balance.

Pale and skinnier than normal, Ruby stood there on the grass. Not too far, not too close. Just there, in the middle, with tired eyes and heavy shoulders.

Belle thought the sight of the girl, after _days of constant and agonizing howling,_ would put a smile on her face, but all she could do was frown and sulk in worry.

Ruby looked _weak_.

“Ruby…” Belle tried, another apology rising in her throat.

Ruby looked weak and it was all Belle’s fault.

“Don’t. Don’t apologize again,” Ruby lifted up her hands to halt Belle’s impulse.

Belle noticed, then, the scarred palms and bloody knuckles. _Gods, what has she been doing?!_

“I can’t hear it again,” the girl dropped her head, seeming unaware of Belle’s alarmed look. “You didn’t… _do anything wrong”_

Belle stepped forward, ready to shout and protest to the contrary. She was ready to comment on the endless days of Ruby’s echoing cries or the blood still drying on her hands. She was ready to counter every argument that _this somehow wasn’t her fault._

 _Because it was._ All of it.

She licked her lips, stopping before she walked too close. Again, Ruby didn’t need Belle’s invasiveness. “I…” Belle tried, but Ruby shook her head, green eyes still not as bright staring back at her.

“You were trying to help me, I know that,” Ruby frowned, and, for a moment, it resembled _concern._ Belle recoiled, confused. “So… stop saying sorry” she said, and Belle could tell it was a request.

She nodded, “I’m…Okay. I just—”

“It’s not your obligation,” Ruby interrupted, and Belle let her speak. “To help me, to talk to me, to… be nice to me”

 _Nice?_ When was Belle ever nice? Intrusive and persistent, yes. But _nice?_

Ruby sighed, and it sounded more tired than annoyed. More beaten than challenged. Belle was growing increasingly confused — where was the anger, the frustration, the irritation? She had expected retaliation, not _compassion._

_Feeling around a dark room, indeed._

“And, still, you try,” Ruby continued, looking away to the distance. Slowly, her face turned from concern to kindness. A shadow of a smile, tempting her lips. “ _So much!_ You try too much, Belle”

Green eyes found her again and Belle felt her shoulders rise in attention. This was too confusing, too sudden, too strange. She didn’t know how to react.

“I want to help,” Belle stuttered again. “I felt like you might need it, so I—”

Ruby’s chuckle was drained. “You tried, I know. I know”

For a moment, she was quiet. Her eyes pierced into Belle and left her exposed, only to drift up to the sky, away from her. The faint smiled faltered, but remained there.

Belle followed her gaze. The birds had returned.

“You remind me too much of him”, Ruby confessed.

Blue eyes shot back at Ruby, but the girl didn’t move, still slumped in defeat, standing barefoot on the grass, watching the birds.

Belle didn’t dare to ask. _She didn’t know if she should — if she could._ She didn’t know what to say.

She frowned, and maybe Ruby caught it in the corner of her eyes, the utter confusion on her face.

“He wanted to help me, too” Ruby explained, letting out a deep sigh into the wind. Her chest rose and fell, heavy. “He tried everything. Most of the bad movies were a gift from him,” her lips curved up, but her eyes seemed sad. “Birdemic was his favorite”

A weak laugh escaped her, and Ruby dropped her head. The long hair fell from her shoulders, hiding her face in the shadows for moment.

When she lifted up her head to meet Belle, there was a light blush on her cheeks.

“He used to say that good times could come out of bad things, and I guess the terrible movies were his awkward way of proving it,” she chuckled, and her eyes shone under the sun. “He was kind of right. I enjoyed them. I enjoyed… _him,”_ she looked around, “He made this prison bearable,” Ruby breathed out, and her tears threatened to fall. “But when he—when I…”

A shudder ran through her body, shaking her thin figure in the distance. She bit on her lips with force, and Belle thought she saw her chin tremble.

Ruby needed time.

And Belle would gladly give it to her.

Healing took time.

After a moment, Ruby was strong enough to speak again. “No good times would come out of that, you know?” She looked back at Belle, and her shoulders tensed up in a tight shrug. “There was nothing left. Of _him._ Of _me”_

The impulse overcame her. Before she knew it, Belle had walked to the bars, gripping the metal with both hands. “You are not alone,” she swore, and it killed her to see _that doubtful surprise_ in Ruby’s eyes. “Your friends care a great deal about you, and it pains them to see you suffering,” Belle insisted, despite Ruby’s hesitant expression. Maybe she needed that reminder after all. “They all want to help you, but they don’t know how”

Ruby shook her head in denial. A lonely tear fell down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it with the back of her hand, before stepping forward.

“I know that,” Ruby drew closer, lowering her voice. “I don’t… There’s _no point_ to this, anymore,” she stood in front of the bars, staring down at Belle.

Up close, Belle could see more clearly the dark circles under her eyes and the faded cuts and scars on her forehead. _Just how did she get so hurt? What in the hell did she do?_

Belle’s worried gaze didn’t faze Ruby. She just pursed her lips, insisting. “There’s no point to _any of this._ I will accomplish nothing. What happened to Peter proved that it doesn’t matter how much I hate this place—this cage,” her jaw was locked, “I don’t deserve to live freely”

“That’s not—”

“That’s the truth,” Ruby’s voice was firm, despite the sorrow beneath. “If I’m capable of _that,_ trapped in here, who knows what I could do on the outside? I’m a danger and I need to be contained”

“Ruby,” Belle tightened her grip on the bars until her knuckles were paper white.

Ruby’s eyes fell to her fingers, seeming to finally take notice of the girl’s nerves. Still, she did nothing to change it.

“I hate it here,” she said, “I’m not a criminal, I’m not an animal. But part of me is. I’m not entirely human. I killed someone. And there are days I can’t remember — entire weeks even, — just _lost,_ to my other self. Times that I just wake up covered in blood” Ruby’s face contorted in pain, but she tried to hide it with a brief, scoffing smile. “How _human_ is that? What guarantee do I have that I’m actually worthy of living a free life?”

Belle slapped the bars, “Don’t say that! This is not true”, she cursed. Rough and angry, all her fragile anxiety was gone. “Your life isn’t defined by one mistake, or by what you were born with,” she stared into Ruby’s eyes, watching as the sadness gave way to confusion. Still as hurt and defensive as ever. “It’s the very way that you are feeling now that proves you are _worthy_ , Ruby,” she dared, letting her hands ease their tension, “You _care._ About people, about others like you, about their dignity, about what you have done. You _care”_

“You don’t understand,” Ruby protested, the impermeable mask beginning to break. “I’m not any nobler for _caring._ This is guilt. It won’t change what happened”

 _Guilt._ Belle know painfully well about it.

“So why dwell on it?” She confronted her, raising her voice the moment the girl showed any intention to leave. _Not again._ “Forgive yourself! Stop punishing yourself for something you had no control over!

Pale lips pulled back in anger. This time, it burned frailer. It was nothing but a flickering reminder of the anger that came before. It was weak and tired of burning.

“How can you know?” Ruby frowned, “You don’t know what happened. How can you say that I didn’t want it? That _it_ didn’t want it? That I’m not that beast, deep down?”

Belle lifted up her chin, compelling her voice to be strong. “I believe in who you are,” she confessed, only to have Ruby shake her head again, denying her every word. She persevered, “I trust that you are good”

Belle held her gaze, heavy and deep.

The bright green eyes still fought back the tears, trying desperately to hide it behind a shallow façade of anger.

When it finally faded, it left Ruby to her true self, saddened and hurt.

The silence rang and the birds flew around.

Ruby sighed in defeat, “He did, too”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your feedback! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

The howl had at last been put to rest, but Belle still couldn’t sleep.

Flashes of fabricated memories plagued the back of her eyelids every time she rolled on her bed, trying to command her body to rest. The more she wrestled to keep her mind quiet, the brighter the images became.

Flares of red and white spun like a windmill in her skull. She pictured Ruby, torn clothes and numb senses, waking up to guts and bones. She pictured the colorless, faceless form of Peter, ripped to pieces on the very ground she once saw Ruby sleep a peaceful dream.

She pictured a wolf, eyes glowing and teeth bared, ripping the flesh still attached to the bones. Canines, sharper and larger than the ones Belle had been growing used to, tearing piece after piece of a man not much older than Zack.

Blood-soaked frames filled her mind, clouding the reason that tried to calm them back down. Belle didn’t feel _fear._ It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t dread, or disgust or even _pity._

It was something nameless — as dark as the shades of sorrow on Ruby’s face.

She felt for the girl. And the worst part of all, if Belle managed to push aside the terrorized images in her head, was that she couldn’t _begin_ to understand what Ruby was feeling.

Belle, in her dull humanness, could never grasp the horror of that act — of that _existence_. Belle had no wolf to blame, no other self to take over her mind and body, no cage to keep her in and no person assigned to convince her she was free.

Belle was merely human and no human would be able to truly understand what it felt to be any other thing. To be _them._

No words were enough. No well-intentioned gifts and playful banter would be enough to lift the weight off Ruby’s shoulders. There was nothing within Belle’s reach to help the girl heal. They were infinities apart, by their very nature.

All Belle could do was pretend her efforts made a different, even if they were but a meaningless speck in the opposite direction, a particle refusing to cave to the majority, a single stubborn drop swimming up-river — she was doing _something._ She wouldn’t surrender to the odds.

The ringing of her phone startled her.

The sweet notes of the violin sounded more like thundering trombones in the somber quietness of her room. The screen light up the darkness, and Belle squinted against the abrupt brightness, reaching for the device.

Her voice was coarse when she answered the call. “Belle French”

“It’s me,” Mary Margaret’s joyful tone contrasted horribly with Belle’s miserable voice. “I wanted to check up on you. I haven’t heard from you in a while,” Her pause grew careful, and the words that followed sounded nervous in their humor, “I was beginning to worry that the werewolf had eaten you”

Belle’s stomach turned in her insides, spreading an icy feeling to her limbs. She felt submerged in freezing water, at the thought.

Gradually, Mary’s laughed morphed into a cough at Belle’s stern silence. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Belle bit her lips, thanking the darkness around her for the odd relief of blindness. “Nothing, nothing,” she lied, and immediately her own voice protested. With a bobble of her throat, she forced herself to admit it. “I—It’s their stories. They stay in my head for a long time”

It was a euphemism and Belle knew it, but it was the most she was willing to share. No one else should bear the same as her, tossing in her sheets, afflicted by awaken nightmares.

“I can only imagine,” Mary offered, “How is it going? Were you able to write anything?”

Belle nodded in silence, only to realize the gesture was lost to their conversation. She needed to sleep. “Yes, yes. I have a lot of material and I’m working on polishing this forty page draft,” she casted a glance to her desk, where lied papers on top of papers she had not dared to touch in days. She could barely remember what they said. “This will be a good one”

The whispered conclusion was pathetically unconvincing and it seemed to have forced Mary Margaret’s hand.

“But…?” She prompted across the static, “Come on, Belle, I know there is something wrong. Belle French doesn’t sound _bored_ with a forty page draft”

Belle sighed, letting her chest fall and sink into the mattress.

Although she knew Mary Margaret was worthy of her absolute trust, a ruling part of her remembered the pain she had provoked by invading Ruby’s privacy. She would crumble under the weight of her own mind before she shared more of the girl’s pain to others.

Yet, her worries were larger than that. They weren’t exclusive to Ruby or her _incident._ They spoke to something greater than the small circle around them, they spoke to the separation of their realities: those free and those caged. Those visiting and those residing. Those writing and those living.

Those human and those _human-like._

The burden stirred in Belle’s bones.

“They’re… too human, Mary Margaret,” she confessed, burying her face in her hands. Once she said it, she felt the words rising up her throat like lava in a volcano. She couldn’t stop them, erupting more and more, burner hotter and hotter. “Their stories are real. They’re not rescued animals or circus attractions. They’re _real_. They think, they feel, they _suffer._ They have friends, hobbies and talents. They have tragedies”

Mary’s silence was telling. Belle’s voice was still fading into nothing when she spoke. “Are you thinking about her again?”

Belle bit her lip, keeping truer words in. “Not just her. All of them! They’re all like this. And I’m writing about them,” she felt the fire burning her in chest, and ordered it to be still. “I’ll go home, we’ll work on this, edit into political correctness, decide on an enticing cover art and _sell it,_ ” she sighed the rest of her frustration, “And they will still be there, the same”

“Not the _same_ , Belle” Mary’s voice was kind, even if it veiled light tones of reprimand **,** “We’re helping them. We’re changing how the public sees them. We’re a huge influence on their future”

Belle couldn’t help the cynic sneer that creeped on her face at that promise. If she remembered the exact answer Ruby had given her to that same naïve sentiment, she would repeat it to Mary Margaret.

Instead, she voiced her own reply. In a way, it carried the same skepticism she had gotten from Ruby’s retort. “So, then, _what_? So more people can come here and marvel at them? Read their information from a plate, take a few pictures and keep on walking?” Her voice had been hardened with frustration, prompting a different approach from Mary Margaret.

“What is your suggestion?” The woman sounded tired.

“To _really_ make a change. To change their lives, the way they live and the way they are treated!” Another flash crossed her mind, shining a familiar green light behind her eyes. “To make them happy”

Mary sighed, “But you said they _were_ happy”

“Not all of them!” Belle suppressed a grunt.

“Is this about the werewolf again?”

Belle set her jaw, “Her name is Ruby. And no, _it’s not_ about her,” she shot a hand in the space around her, as exasperation flooded her body. “It’s about what that whole place symbolizes!”

“Let me remind you, Belle,” Mary’s voice was strengthened with the kind of authority Belle rarely heard from her. It was solid and serious. “That not of all them are as understanding and friendly as the Cricket and the Mermaid” Belle scoffed under her breath and Mary returned with raised volume, shutting up any response, “Some of them have powers to level building and control minds. Some of them can’t understand our languages and trade only on war. Some of them feed on life energy, some of them hunt humans for fun,” her voice echoed through the phone, “They’re not all harmless”

Belle didn’t have an answer. Not to _that._ She knew, in her core, she couldn’t deny the real fear the creatures incited on ordinary people, on an uninformed population — she knew disregarding it would be dangerous, as she knew even many of _them_ felt the same.

Ruby’s voice reverberated in the back of her mind. _What guarantee do I have that I’m actually worthy of living a free life?_

Belle had felt the fright in Ruby’s eyes, the fear that she wasn’t worthy of freedom — that she was too dangerous to be granted happiness, to live like any other person.

Belle knew Ruby would agree with Mary Margaret, because she, too, believed in the danger of her nature — _their nature._

So how could Belle, being the dull human she was, dare to disagree?

Stubbornness was all that she was left with. “You can’t be sure of that,” Belle countered.

“And you can’t be sure of the contrary,” came the confident reply. “I trust your instincts, Belle. That’s why we all voted for _you,_ and only _you_ , to be there. And I understand that your struggle is genuine, as I believe theirs is just as valid,” there was a pause long enough for Belle to hear the change in Mary Margaret’s firm resolve. Suddenly, all the authority was pushed aside and she was back to her kind self. “There’s only so much we can do, _realistically._ As for the rest, we can only hope”

Belle breathed in, filling her lungs with a persistent irritation. “Should I simple _hope_ that they will happily ever after, once we’re done? Is there were my actions end? With this project?”

“You’re not powerless, remember that” Mary insisted, “The piece you will write will help improve their lives, you should _trust_ that. That’s our power as journalists,” she swore, and Belle could almost see the hopeful smile on her face, on the other end of the line. “Then, when there’s nothing more you can do, you can hope”

Belle breathed out at last, but the rough impatience still clung to her skin. “This doesn’t ease my mind”

“I’m sorry,” Mary exhaled, and Belle believed her sincerity. “If there were something more that I could do, I would. Maybe… maybe you should take a break? A week, without going there?”

The offer was undeniably tempting — pretending for a week the responsibilities extended no further than her assigned job; that her human life was all that she knew; that there was no injustice around her; that no one endured any pain, for any reason.

The fantasy was seductive. An innocent utopia to numb her senses for a week. Maybe then, she could get proper rest.

“You’ll clear your head,” Mary Margaret added, “You’ve been immersed in their lives for too long. A break will serve you well”

Belle nodded to the words, but they reached no deeper than her skin. Her bones have already been claimed by something else, much more important than her own rest, her own feelings, her own life.

She could not give in to that delusion and pretend all was right in the world. She could not close her eyes and lie to herself, trying to convince her raging mind that all those months were filled with nothing but glee.

She saw, beneath the surface, there was suffering. In Ruby, it was evident — it had screamed for days, in the form of ear-piercing howls; it had broke down tables and walls in its rage. Ruby _spoke_ about her pain.

In the others, it was subtle. A long glance, a voice that falters, the eyes that look down for a moment, the carefully chosen words. In their subtlety, the others felt the same. Belle believed so, with all her heart.

They smiled and joked and mocked, but they _felt_ more than they were willing to share.

And Belle could not turn her back on them.

***

In a way, she had accepted Mary Margaret’s offer and had taken her break for a week. The seven days she had promised to her boss, however, were spent not exactly as intended.

Belle took a break from her work, not her duties.

She went back to the Den, the following day.

No notebook or pen in her purse. Secured in her hands as she strolled down the familiar path, was a plastic bag, heavy with food.

She choose a place in front of the bars and made there she made her stance.

She examined the habitat for a moment, before spotting Ruby’s form, far in the distance, laying on a comfortable spot bathed in sunlight. A smile curved her features, and Belle tapped the bars.

Ruby didn’t seem have been sleeping a profound sleep, as her ears quickly discerned the sound and her eyes shot open.

In the distance, it wasn’t quite clear for Belle to see, but she could have sworn they gleamed with tears.

Cleaning her throat, Belle lifted the bag in front of her body, “I brought you food,” she shook the container closer to the bars, a smirk still in place, “ _Cooked food”_

Even in the distance **,** she could see Ruby smile.

***

They sat on the grass, sharing the plastic plate. To anyone who walked by, they were having an ordinary picnic. As ordinary as a picnic could be, across silver bars.

Ruby sat on the ground of her habitat. The earth was purer in its color, it seemed. Darker and richer, like an untouched piece of nature. On Belle’s side —the other side of the bars —, there was more concrete than life, more polished edges and scrubbed floor than real terrain.

It was fitting, Belle concluded. It spoke to the critical different between the two places. While one was beaming with primal life, the other was politely alive, in planned corners and calculated colors.

And even if Belle could appreciate the dedication put into _her_ side of the bars, she still wished there were no distinction between them at all. No cage, no bars, no barrier.

That, she figured, was a naive wish. One she wouldn’t be granted in any future.

Ruby, however, did not seem to mind the same things. Her eyes didn’t pay attention to the bars that separated them or the different levels of their grounds — she saw only Belle.

As she took another bite of her second hamburger, she managed to say, “Thank you for that,” Ruby motioned her head to the empty styrofoam containers laying on the grass next to her. “They feed me so much raw meat that I’ve considered surviving on berries only”

Ruby gave her a smile despite the food in her mouth and Belle returned the gesture with a nod.

The light tone meant Ruby was joking, but the sentiment there was still true. _She was sick of it._

Belle cleared her throat again, feeling the knot that refused to disappear entirely. It had been there since the night before. “That sucks,” she pushed through it, decided on making conversation, “Why do they do that?”

Her question tried to mirror Ruby’s frustration, but instead it sounded pitiful. Too small and too scared to demand respect. Belle cursed herself.

Ruby just sighed, and a cloud of sadness hovered over her face, deepening a frown in the pale skin.

Slowly, she swallowed the rest of her food and placed her hands on her lap. Her eyes never left the ground in the mid-distance. “It was after Peter,” she confessed, and Belle held in a breath — and an apology, “They thought I needed to eat more like a wolf, to prevent something like that from happening again”

She shrugged, trying to shake away the sorrow so familiar to her features. Belle saw past it — pass all the fake indifference.

“I’m sorry,” she offered, bringing her voice close to a whisper. Shame was crawling back up her spine, “I didn’t mean to bring that up”

A nervous chuckle blew against Ruby’s chest, and the girl shook her head sideways. When she lifted her head back up, a weak smile was there, resisting the pain. “Stop apologizing, Gods!” Ruby rubbed the back of her neck, and Belle took notice of the obvious distress in her posture.

She was about to apologize again and again, for ever being stupid enough to think she could approach the subject. The perfect words were loaded at the tip of her tongue, but she fought and held them in.

Ruby’s discomfort wasn’t aimed at Belle. She was struggling with something.

Again, Belle gave her all the time in the world.

“I should be able to talk about this” Ruby said, voice low and uncertain. The bright eyes searched the entire field, never landing on Belle. “This… could be a way to recover,” she nodded to herself, exhaling a rough breath. “Or at least it’s what Jiminy said”

Belle resisted the urge to lean in and step into Ruby’s line of sight. She resigned to frowning, “You talked to Jiminy? When?”

“A few days ago, after the talk we had” Ruby admitted, nervous fingers toying at the ripped edges of her shirt. “I was… suffocating, just thinking about it, and—and I thought I might do something dangerous—or stupid,” her breath trembled, shaking her voice. A second later, she continued, pushing through whatever was trying to stop her, “I called him and he calmed me down. I had almost forgotten how wise he can be,” Ruby smiled, then, as if seeing in Jiminy in the empty space ahead. “And how nice it can be to talk to him”

Belle’s chest bubbled with a warm feeling, and she couldn’t keep her body still. “I’m glad you two are talking again,” she searched for Ruby’s eyes, “He missed you”

It took a moment, but Ruby finally turned back to Belle. Her eyes were still clinging to something _sad_ **,** but the smile on her lips was the opposition to it all. “He had a lot of good things to say about you, too”

Ruby’s voice suddenly sounded so soft and gentle that Belle forgot to immediately grasp their meaning. When it dawned on her what she had heard, the blood was already rising to her cheeks.

“Yeah?” She stuttered and Ruby calmed her down with a grin.

“Yeah. He said you were honest, caring and good,” Ruby explained, while Belle tried her hardest to shield her blush from the girl’s eyes. Amidst a giggle, Ruby continued, “He said that I should accept your help and not be so freaked out that you are so similar to… _him”_

Belle could barely find her own voice again. “That’s nice,” she managed, in a nervous breath.

Ruby let her low laugh echo for a moment, filling the silence between them. As the wind blew and the birds chirped, the quietness became serious.

Belle heard Ruby sigh, the same heavy breath she resorted to, when she tried to regain her strength.

Within the same moment, Ruby spoke. “He would do things like that, sometimes. Bring me stuff,” she gestured to the empty containers, and Belle dove into the story, “Back then, I didn’t care much for food. I didn’t feel very hungry — I guess I didn’t know what I would miss —,” she joked for a second, before returning her attention to her fidgeting hands, “He would bring me bags of candy and junk food, and end up eating alone”

The memories seemed heartfelt to Ruby, as she closed her eyes and lifted her head up. Belle admired her in silence, allowing her the space to talk.

Slowly, Ruby opened her eyes again, returning to the present. “He would walk inside, too,” she pointed to the tall door on the side of the cage, nearby Zack’s station — what was once Peter’s station. “We played video games and watched the bad movies,” Ruby remembered, smiling at her words, “It was nice,” she confessed, and Belle mirrored the careful gesture, smiling alongside her.

She just hoped her quiet support could comfort Ruby, as she recalled the past. Belle wasn’t foolish — she knew it wasn’t easy to talk about it. In the face of grief, even the happiest times could feel like a cruel deception, just a bittersweet picture.

And she knew Ruby hadn’t recovered, not completely. Belle wouldn’t be careless again.

She waited.

And Ruby gathered her courage.

“On that day, he knew I would turn. It was a full moon, when the pull is at its strongest — he knew. But—” Ruby stopped herself, to take a deep breath. Once again, her eyes refused to meet Belle’s, drowning in the close space in her of her own chest. “But he had always insisted that I could control the beast, you know? He had tried to reason with it before, but, you know, how can you reason with an animal?” Ruby let out a mocking laugh, shaking her head at the thought, “Still, he never gave up. He wanted to prove that I could control it, so he walked in, despite my… my warnings”

Belle saw the rigidity on Ruby’s jaw as she grinded her teeth, the lips pressed taut, the muscles of her neck lined with tension. There was a battle raging inside her skin, and it was taking its toll on her.

It only made Ruby fight harder, breathing out, “We got so caught up on each other, we didn’t keep track of the time, we—we fall asleep” she shrugged, only to worsen the strain in her shoulders, “When I woke up, I was curled up on what was left of him”

Ruby’s last breath signaled her silence, and Belle waited until it was safe to say anything — to make any noise.

At that point, Belle was afraid even the slightest movement would be too disruptive, too invasive. She felt utterly out of place there, offering no better comfort than the sound of her call.

“Ruby…” She could only breathe the name, with no words to follow.

She had nothing to say. No apology of a dull human would make any difference, erase any pain or ease any suffering. Belle could only be there, in her presence.

After a moment, the tautness pressuring Ruby’s body started to melt away, releasing her muscles. She dropped her shoulders to their own weight, forcing her head back.

“Ah,” she puffed, “That was hard. I didn’t think I would be able to say it” Ruby frowned in what seemed like exhaustion to Belle’s eyes.

And, again, Belle was left with nothing to say, but she would let Ruby’s battle be in vain.

With a careful hand, she reached across the small distance, between the bars, touching the rough ground Ruby sat on.

“Thank you,” she whispered to their silence, “for trusting me”

Green eyes finally met hers, and Ruby nodded.

***

The week had come and gone, and Belle was back to her usual routine of interviews.

Her plan, she had decided, was now concentrated on the more difficult of the creatures to understand. And she found humor in the fact that, amongst them, in the long list of grunting residents and unintelligible beasts, were the Witches.

If Belle were forced to admit it, she would confess the Witches were the easiest to mistake for an absolute, ordinary human. They had no physical traits that betrayed their nature, — no fins, no large and pointy ears, no sharp canines or eyes that changed color according to their temper.

At a first — slightly uninformed — sight, they appeared unmistakably _human_.

Despite their inoffensive appearance, they were the ones concealing the greatest power in the Park. No dragon or giant could rival the strength and the magnitude of their magic and Belle _knew_ that immense power had its repercussions on their nature.

Power was corruptive, and who most fit to be corrupted, than the most human of them all?

The Witches were a challenge to Belle.

At last, she decided to focus her questions on the Two Sisters. After all, they had exhibited the most _approachable_ demeanor, and served as figure of leadership in their District. It was daunting, that amongst the vastly powerful creatures, Regina and Zelena were the most powerful of them all.

Even after nearly three months of their daily interactions, Belle still felt some sort of _uneasiness_ entering their mansion and sitting on their couch.

Finally, she had learned to carry a decent conversation with the two, navigating from Regina’s elegant wit to Zelena’s merciless sarcasm without much trouble.

_And_ — she liked to believe it, — they too had been growing fond of Belle’s visits.

The first time they had offered her something to drink, Belle found herself desperately searching for Sebastian, waiting for his approval — or his rescue.

She trusted the leather cuff for her protection, but part of her mind had wondered if that was the opportunity the Sisters had been waiting to poison her and user her dead body as a potion ingredient.

It took Zelena’s eye roll and a chain of acid jokes at her expense for Belle to cave in and take the first sip. The poison she had braced for was nothing but a delicious apple tea, which she enjoyed to the last drop, through the task of _apologizing_ for her doubt.

Now, however, Belle knew better. She took the cup offered to her and brought it to her lips without a second thought. Apple and cinnamon. _Gods, Regina had a gift._

As she savored the taste of the hot tea, she took a moment to appreciate the familiarity of all around her.

The flames crackling in the fireplace, the light piano music filling in the background of the room, even _Zelena’s_ quiet presence in the corner, reading the newspaper from the day before — it all composed a impeccable picture of comfort to Belle.

Strangely enough, she had found contentment in the only place she had doubted would ever welcome her.

Time had a way of changing things.

Into the silence, rose Regina’s voice. “So, the wolf finally stopped howling”

Belle tried not to choke on her tea, leaning forward on the cushions of the couch before regaining her composure. _She was not prepared for that._

In a brief second, she looked to Regina’s direction and studied her figure. Gracefully posed on her leather chair, dark hair like a painting and red lips pursued with curiosity — there wasn’t a part of her that hinted at anything malicious, not even the intimidating brown eyes Belle was growing accustomed to.

Regina seemed to notice Belle’s hesitance, blinking down towards the cup of tea she held in hands. “I’m just commenting. It seems she’s calmed down, at last” Belle watched her cautiously, and the smile that shaped her lips sent shivers up her spine. “Good job, Miss French”

Belle swallowed, trying to earn back some of her formality. “How do you know about this?”

As she waited for Regina’s reply, she heard Zelena groaning loudly to the side. She looked to the older sister, only to find her still absorbed in her reading, pointing a single finger towards the wall.

Belle followed the invisible line, to where a tall oval mirror hanged proudly amidst the oil paintings.

She inspected it for a moment, finding nothing out of the ordinary, until Regina’s reply finally came. “I like to keep track of everyone” Regina explained, alert of Belle’s confusion, “And you, specially. I wanted to know if you were up to anything”

Belle shot her eyes back to Regina, straightening up on her seat, feeling suddenly uncomfortable on the soft surface. She bit her lips to keep from gasping, eyes scanning her surroundings with a fear she thought she had long abandoned.

Again, Regina was attentive to her posture. “Don’t worry,” the woman assured, “You wouldn’t be here sipping tea with us if we didn’t trust you”, Regina’s metallic voice was oddly soothing as she explained, _“Relax”_

Belle tried to order her body back down into the easy comfort, but the realization of Regina’s power served only to ignite more of her questions. She didn’t know where to begin, so she trusted her words with the first thing that rose to mind. “You know about what happened to her?”

She wished she could say _it surprised her,_ that Ruby was the emphasis of her racing thoughts, but the lie would be useless. Even Regina seemed unimpressed by her question.

“To the wolf? Yes,” Regina nodded, and, for a moment, her eyes showed true sympathy, “Such a tragedy. We all felt for her,” she casted a glance to her sister, and Belle followed her eyes, but Zelena remained still and unaffected. With a sigh, Regina continued, “I mean, we don’t _talk_ , but we can understand how horribly painful something like that can be”, she shrugged, forcing a polite smile back on her lips, “I’m glad to see she is letting herself heal, finally”

Belle could only agree, “I am, too”

A second of silence resonated between them, and in the crackling of the fire, Belle found herself walking new grounds, thinking new thoughts, wondering new things.

She felt the frown deepen in her face, “Things like that… _accidents,_ tend to happen often?” She asked, and it intrigued her to see Regina sit in consideration for a moment.

“No,” she decided, “Not like that, at least. The Dwarves fight a lot, but it always ends up in some beer-soaked hug and tears”, Regina gazed at the mirror as she recalled, as if seeing in the empty reflection the images she detailed, “Even the cyclops, at times, fight amongst themselves, but never one got killed for it. What happened to the girl was truly an unfortunate event”

“To say the least,” Belle breathed out, confused by the wave of disappointment that crashed over her.

_What was she expecting to hear? That Ruby’s was just one more tragedy in many, or that Peter’s death was a tragic exception to their rule? What was a more comforting thought?_

“So I believe is a good thing that you showed up like you did” Regina broke through Belle’s distant thoughts again, “Despite the awkwardness, you seem to be doing her some good. That is nice. She deserves a break”

Belle fought her reddening cheeks again, mumbling a reply, “She does,” she nodded, letting her eyes fall back to the tea cooling in her cup.

Warmth returned to her chest and she nested herself in the sensation.

It took her a full minute to realize she had been smiling to herself, and one more to notice the thumbs that had started to rub against the edges of the porcelain.

By the third minute, Regina intervened.

“Are you being careful, Miss French?”

A jolt shook Belle’s body back to reality, forcing her eyes up. “What do you mean?”

Regina failed to hide the smirk that tempted her lips. Slowly, the brown eyes started to beam with another kind of malevolence, “With your research and your involvement in this, are you keeping the safe distance?”

Belle cleared her throat. The tea had already cooled down, but suddenly her body felt too hot. “I don’t think there’s any danger for me here. All the arrangements are perfectly secure”

Despite her slight stutter, she was happy with her answer. It seemed to have satisfied Regina, as she woman returned to her tea without further insistence.

However, as she was about to settle her nerves down, Zelena’s voice demanded to be heard.

“She’s not talking about you being charred to ashes in the Witches Mansion, you idiot,” the woman spat, “She’s talking about your ridiculously obvious attraction to the werewolf”

Belle’s heart tried to leap out of her throat, and she gasped for air. “I—I, that’s not— What—“

Regina’s low chuckle filled the room, allowing Belle’s embarrassed meltdown to fade into silence, “I will take that as a ‘no’, then. You are _not_ being careful”

“There is _nothing_ inappropriate in my relationship with Ruby”, she countered quickly, only to then realize the tenacity of her response was what betrayed her meaning.

Regina smirk was sculpted in stone, wicked and evil, in all the most harmless ways, “I _just_ told you I watch your activity around here. It’s futile to lie”

Belle wished she could melt into the carpet and disappear, when she heard Zelena’s giggle.

With trembling hands, she laid her cup on the coffee table, away from the clumsiness of her nerves. A shaky, unconvincing breath, and she tried again, “There _won’t_ be anything. There _can’t_ be. That would be highly unprofessional of me, not to mention—”

“If I recall,” Regina’s composure was a cruel contrast to Belle’s inner panic. “You’re not writing about her, as you are the rest of us. Why would that be unprofessional?”

Belle swallowed, “I’m a _guest._ Ruby is a resident, that’s—”

“Allowed,” Zelena interjected, resting her chin on her hand. With the newspaper tossed and folded on her lap, the woman directed her full attention to their conversion and Belle just wished she had stayed quiet. “In fact, _encouraged._ With all the stubbornness of that wolf about passing on the curse, the _Chief_ is trying everything to get her a partner. Of course, in your case, it wouldn’t really work. Unless one of you can impregnate the other—”

“Zelena” Regina’s call was both a warning and a request. Breathing in a calming breath, Regina returned her eyes to Belle. “You two are becoming friends. So far, being a guest or a resident hasn’t truly been much of an obstacle, has it?”

Belle wanted to reply. Truly, she did. She simply didn’t have _what to say, how to argue, what to deny._ She couldn’t just bob her head along, like an mindless, spineless… _thing._

She was a _writer._ She had plenty of _words._ Many words. She had so many _words_ she didn’t know how to put them together to form something coherent — that’s how _many words she had._ Yet, none would work.

Before she knew it, she had buried her face on her hands, groaning against her palms in a long noise without meaning. _Yes,_ she thought, _that was the right word._

Her grunt lasted for a full second, before she accepted her fate and rose back up, throwing her body back onto the couch, shoulders flaccid and head defeated.

Regina hummed a melodic laugh, “You’re _transparent_ , French”

Belle breathed out towards the ceiling. It was useless to fight them, now. “Gods!” She groaned, “You two are the most vicious of them all! Why is that _your_ habitat is the only I can enter so freely? Is it just so you can torture me? That’s quite a sadistic executive decision,” she cursed, and it did not ease her irritation to hear Zelena burst out laughing in the corner.

The noisy cackle extended for long enough to make Belle confused. Eventually, it won over her frustration, and she brought her head back down to meet the Sisters. Regina was patiently waiting her with a perfectly shaped eyebrow arched on her face.

“Who said _ours_ is the only place you can enter?” Regina explained carefully, never letting her smile lose its strength. “You can explore inside almost _all_ the habitats”

As Belle registered her words, her mind fell worryingly silent. The same usual thought burst into her head, rendering her mute.

The thought of entering other habitats spread like wildfire in her mind, sinking teeth and claws and refusing to leave. _Teeth,_ she realized. _How ironic._

In the numbness that was now the present, she could hear Zelena say, “She is going to enter the Werewolf Den”

And with the same smile, Regina replied, “Of _course_ she is”


	11. Chapter 11

It would be safe to say Belle French didn’t need to think twice about her next decision.

She would enter the Werewolf Den.

She had been confident the habitats that allowed such a liberty from guests had been introduced that way. _Enter here. Do not enter there._ She trusted the distinctions had been made clear.

She had walked inside the dwarves’ mines; she had explored the safe parts of the dragons’ cave and the giant’s pit; she had hiked on the main passage on the Troll’s Bridges; she had explored all that was within her reach.

It had never crossed her mind that other habitats would be accessible in the same way. That _Ruby’s Habitat_ would be accessible in that way.

She almost couldn’t bring herself to believe it. It was an invaluable opportunity — she was certain of that much —, but at the same time it seemed too good to the true, that they would allow her to walk inside and interact with Ruby the way Belle had always wanted to: like an equal.

Her doubt was conscious of their precautions. Ruby, as far as the great majority of the Caretakers had cared to inform Belle, was a _troublesome_ resident.

Peter’s incident shattered the frail trust the workers had once built with her, so they distanced themselves from her, treating her more like a monster and less like a person. _More like a volatile beast,_ and less like the simple, lonely girl she truly was.

 _Surely,_ Belle thought, _Regina’s information had been outdated. Surely_ , they had changed their mind about opening the Den for guests. Surely, it wouldn’t be _that_ easy for Belle, to have her wish granted — to talk to Ruby, on the same ground.

Belle wouldn’t be that lucky. For luck was a fickle thing and Belle wasn’t sure she could trust it.

***

The Den was her first destination on the following day.

Yet again, she carried no pen or notebook in hands. In fact, she carried nothing at all, but her own burning enthusiasm, leading her every step.

She brought her sprint to a stop, waving hands in the air to call for Ruby, voice windy and thin.

“Why didn’t you tell me that I can walk _in_ there?”

Her shout met the emptiness of the Den, bouncing off the cabin’s wooden walls without an answer. Recomposing herself and inviting the air back into her lungs, Belle prepared for another shout, when the creaking hinges of the door announced Ruby’s presence.

Slowly, she showed herself, walking outside with baggy clothes and messy hair.

Ruby stepped down the stairs of the porch and onto the grass as if the ground was the thinnest ice or the weakest glass. Caution was painted vibrant on her features, evident in every move.

Wide eyes, despite the sleep persisting rough in her voice. “What?” She mumbled, squinting against the sunlight.

Belle tried to tame her breathing and calm her eagerness, accomplishing little, but a panting smile. “Your place,” she gestured to Ruby’s vast surroundings, and the girl only seemed to shrink. “I can walk inside, can’t I? It’s allowed for guests to enter some habitats”

The familiar tension seemed to return to Ruby’s shoulder, shrinking her body, pulling her back. “Some, yeah,” a frown cast shades on the green eyes, “The Witches’ Mansions, Anton’s Cave, the Dwarves PUB, even Ariel’s Aquarium, but— _here_ …”

Belle stepped forward, aware of Ruby’s immediate urge to step back. “I can, can’t I? It is allowed”

Ruby shook her head, bare shoulders pulling up, “I really don’t think that’s wise, Belle”

 _That’s not a no,_ Belle thought. _Still, it wasn’t a yes._

She remained quiet, planted on her chosen spot in front of the bars. Her resolve didn’t weaken — it only seemed to grow stronger, in her silence. Ruby seemed to recognize the determination burning behind Belle’s eyes.

The girl sighed, “Ask Zack, first,” she offered Belle a nervous smile, “He will be able to answer you”

Belle scoffed. Zack, with all his poorly hidden fear of Ruby, would be one of the last people to allow anyone inside the Den.

Maybe it was precisely what Ruby hoped.

Belle wouldn’t fall for it. She curved a knowing smirk at the attempt. “Why can’t _you_ answer me?”

Ruby’s shoulders fell with force, as she exhaled a tired breath. “Because I’m the creature,” she patted at her chest, before throwing her hand towards the caretaker’s station, “He is the caretaker. He is in charge that decision”

Belle arched an eyebrow. “And you respect a rule as absurd as that? It’s _your_ space—”

“If it can stop you from entering, yes,” Ruby nodded, “I respect something as absurd as that”

“Why?” Belle took one last step towards the bars, resting her hands on the cold metal, “I just want to be able to talk to you, without _these_ in the way”

Ruby shrugged, but the tension still had a strong hold of her bones, “We can talk just fine like this”

“It is not normal!” Belle whined, “I don’t enjoy this. I don’t want to get used to this — this barrier. Like we’re not equal”

“We’re _not_ ,” Ruby glared.

“Not like this,” she pushed her body away from the bars, “I’m always in this place, as if I’m above you, as if I’m deserving of something better than you, and it’s… it’s untrue. I don’t like it”

“Belle” Ruby’s voice was pleading, as exhaustion started crawling on her features, “This… is _dangerous”_

Belle swallowed, “Why would it be?”

“You know exactly why,” she sighed.

“I know why you _fear_ it,” Belle shrugged, stepping backwards onto the main path, “But I don’t worry for my safety, so you shouldn’t, either”

“Belle!” Ruby begged again, as Belle started circling the habitat, headed for the station.

She continued despite Ruby’s annoyed growl, until she stood before the small brick post by the borders of the Den. Inside, slumped on a puffy leather chair, Zack battled his sleep.

Chin resting on his hand, he had his eyes heavy-lidded and glued to the many screens sitting on his desk. Cameras, pointed to every inch of the Den, showing very part of nature Belle had not yet been able to see. Grouped together at the end, five screens displayed the interior of the cabin, surveilling all rooms, confiscating all privacy.

Belle fought against her rising curiosity, and averted her eyes from the screens, focusing on the task at hand.

She knocked on the open door, “Hey, Zack?”

The boy jumped on his chair, blinking into awareness. He rubbed his eyes and stood on his feet, his small frame rivaling Belle’s height. “Yes, Miss French?” He cleared his throat, arranging a polite tone, “What do you need?”

“ _Belle”_ Ruby groaned from the distance, forcing Belle to speak over her.

“I want to enter the Den,” she declared, as casual as a greeting, “Could you please open it for me?”

The look on the boy’s face was one of shock with a hint of confusion. If Belle didn’t know better, she would think she had asked him to rob a bank, instead.

Zack was stunned, breaking his politeness into suspicion. “You want to get _in?_ ” He shot a puzzled glance beyond Belle’s shoulder to the Den. Then, back at her, a whisper, “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Belle lifted her chin up, “What, am I not allowed? Regina said I could”

Zack looked hesitant. His eyes searched for Ruby, while his hands fiddled with the sides of his belt, “I mean… It is not against the rules, but…” He let his voice fade into nothing, reserve hovering his face.

Belle didn’t need to hear the following words. She knew exactly what fueled Zack’s fear.

She held back a sigh. She didn’t have the time to make her argument. “So? Gear me up if that’s necessary and let’s move it along”

Once more, his eyes shifted towards the Den, rigidly aware of Ruby’s presence in the distance. With an overflowing caution, he stepped closer to Belle, until the tip of their shoes met. His voice cracked into what Belle thought was the lowest whisper someone could manage, “Miss French, you do know that she—”

“She knows it, Zack. Everyone knows it,” Ruby shouted from afar. Zack’s body shuddered at the intrusion and he torn himself away from Belle. He cursed once or twice under his breath, rubbing his mouth with nervous hands.

Belle sighed, turning towards the Den to send Ruby a disapproving look.

To her surprise, Ruby had approached them, standing before the entrance, just inches from the bars. It seemed she, too, had something to say, “ _Everyone_ knows that _,_ ” she stressed, eyes fixed on Belle’s, “Which is why this is madness”

Belle covered the short distance with impatient feet, standing in front of Ruby again. “It is not,” she argued and persisted against Ruby’s glare, “How can you expect people to treat you with respect, when you don’t allow yourself near them? What type of respect do you have for yourself, in doing that?”

Ruby locked her jaw, “This is not about respect—”, and she stopped herself, biting on the inside of her mouth. Belle knew this was a tell of her frustration.

Regardless, she insisted. She searched for Zack, who still contemplated stepping out of his station. “Do I have to wear something, like with the Witches? Do I get a key? Come on, what are the procedures?”

Belle realized her own frustration wasn’t so nicely veiled, either. With a shallow breath, she tried to compose herself.

Zack nodded repeatedly in response, disappearing deep into his station. He opened several drawers and boxes before returning, a metal box in hands. Inside, tossed and dusty, were several accessories colored silver and purple.

Zack cleared his throat. “Those are the options we provide,” he started, pointing to a small remote with a single yellow button on it. Belle knew exactly what it triggered. “A portable Bell — that is, our ringing button”

“I hate it already,” Belle frowned in distaste. “And _bell,_ really?”

Ruby scoffed, “Peter called it The Hell Bell,” she forced a chuckle, her humor still tinted with restraint.

“Well, I take offense to that name,” Belle turned to Zack, “What else do you have?”

The boy cleared his throat, motioning to another object — a silver bracelet. “This is pure silver. We have over twenty of those, so you can wear as many as you want. The slightest touch is enough to—, uh… you know” he quickly shifted his focus down, seeming afraid of meeting Ruby’s gaze. “We have about ten full-body suits lined with silver, but those are mostly for the cleaning crew”

Silver. The mere mention of it felt like an invisible burning in her skin.

Belle winced at the thought of it hurting Ruby; at the thought of simply _wearing_ such a thing.

She missed the leather cuff she was given to wear inside the Witches Mansion, so simple and peaceful. It was passive, it was protective, it was _harmless._ She didn’t need to hurt them to protect herself, it was just a leveling tool for their differences.

The silver bracelet didn’t create any balance — it didn’t fake any normalcy. It was a weapon.

“No. No, I won’t wear this,” Belle’s voice sounded hard, “Do you have _anything_ that doesn’t hurt her?”

The question seemed to puzzle Zack. His eyes searched Belle’s, in hesitant silence, before focusing back on the tray.

The objects clinked and bumped against each other as Zack pushed them aside, trying to find a peaceful alternative.

The fact that such a thing would be hard to find sent hot waves of rage through Belle’s veins.

“Get her the stinky stuff already!” Ruby ordered, robbed of patience.

“The _what_?” Belle frowned.

“Yes,” Zack exclaimed, reaching for the side of his belt.

Secured in a holster by his hip — too similar to a gun — was a small pray can, and painted on its side was a picture of single purple petal.

It didn’t have the same lavender tone as the one before, Belle noted. Whatever it was, it didn’t hurt Ruby and that was compelling enough on its own.

“Here,” Zack offered, “We make those ourselves. It’s a repellent, made to have the same scent as wolf’s bane, but without the poisonous properties, so you can use it as a…,” he shook the can in a circle in front of Belle, pretending to spray it, “A reverse perfume”

“The stinky stuff” Belle repeated to herself, as it now made sense. “I see. So this will smell bad, just that?”

“Well,” Zack lowered the can, examining its label, “It says here humans aren’t built to detect the scent, like werewolves. Only they know to avoid it, so technically it will smell _terribly_ bad to Ruby”

Belle bit her lip. It wasn’t as compelling anymore. To stink _._ To be repulsive. To smell as poison. _Why were those her only options?_

She sighed, “The whole point is to not have something separating us. I need _anything_ else, just to give that one,” she exaggerated the motion of her head, eliciting a sarcastic smile from Ruby, “the sense of security she needs”

“I’m fine with wolf’s bane,” Ruby crossed her arms, challenging Belle’s disapproving glare.

“But I’ll smell repulsive to you!” Belle countered.

“Better than smelling appetizing,” Ruby sunk the tip of her fingers on her forearms, pulling her shoulders together with the same rigidity as before. “I think that is the safe alternative. I won’t risk it”

_That was enough._

Belle marched to the bars, gripping the metal until her knuckles turned pale. Ruby stepped back, keeping her absolute attention on Belle.

“Ruby,” she whispered to the girl, knowing this time the trick would work, “You’re not a savage, uncontrollable beast,” Ruby scoffed at the words, turning her head away. Belle persisted, “You have power over your nature, like one always does. Mind over matter. You don’t need a repellent to keep from hurting me. I know you don’t”

Belle heard her sincerity in every word. She knew she sounded desperate, but she was being true. It was the best she could offer, and she wished it would be enough for Ruby.

Still, the girl hadn’t turned, hadn’t moved, hadn’t _breathed._ She kept her eyes away, through it all. “I ate him, Belle,” Ruby’s throat trembled as the words ripped their way out, “He was the only person I cared about, and even that wasn’t enough to stop me”

Belle swallowed her impulse. She shouldn’t disregard Ruby’s feelings. Not so selfishly.

She whispered, “It is a new moon today. I will keep my distance, if you wish. I won’t even touch you,” she swore, noticing as Ruby’s eyes tentatively returned to her. “But you need to allow yourself this. You need to trust yourself again”

Ruby chuckled timidly, “I never did”

“Then you need to start,” Belle nodded, pulling her lips into a smile. Slowly, it eased Ruby’s tension. “Come on,” Belle asked, gradually treading back into their usual banter, “I won’t use that. That… stinky stuff. What, a repellent, as if you are a mosquito? That’s honestly _ridiculous_ ”

Although annoyed, Ruby’s smile was sincere this time. She puffed out a tired, desperate laugh, throwing her head back. “For fuck’s sake, Belle. At least—at least wear the silver bracelet, please?” She stepped forward, erasing the small distance. Her voice was a supplication again, “Please”

Belle breathed in, filling her lungs. The idea wasn’t thrilling, in the least. All she could picture was the silver burning the pale skin, reddening the surface, boiling it open. She couldn’t _bare_ the thought of it. It was sickening, it was horrifying, it was—

“ _Please_ ,” Ruby asked again, green eyes lowered to Belle’s height, begging and vulnerable. “Please, I need you to wear it”

It dawned on Belle, then, in awful embarrassment, that all of her reasons were just that — hers. They were selfish and stubborn and stupid. All over again. There she was, standing before Ruby one more time, imposing all of her self-righteousness on the girl, ignoring her feelings and violating her limits. _She was doing it again._

She bowed her head down, feeling the weight of shame that started tempting her muscles. _What a vicious evil, it was._

“Fine,” Belle breathed out, still looking down towards the ground. She didn’t want to meet the pleading eyes again, only to see her overbearing self reflected back at her. “Fine, I’ll wear the bracelet,” she ordered her body to stand up right, trying her hardest to shrug the awful feeling from her bones. “ _One_ bracelet. Only because you want me to. But know that I don’t need it. _You_ don’t need it,” Belle met the green eyes again.

Ruby nodded, exhaling a breath that sounded to have been locked in her chest for ages. “Okay,” she let her shoulders fall, curving her lips into a smile. “Thank you”

Belle smiled back at her, letting shame find its way to the back of her mind.

“There you go,” Zack stepped next to Belle, handing her the bracelet. “Adjust the clasp until you feel comfortable,” he explained, standing over her as Belle wiggled her hand through the thick chain. “If you want, you can link two more and make a necklace. It’s important to protect the throat—”

“Zack,” Belle stopped him, her voice a gentle warning. “Don’t. Ruby is a person. Treat her accordingly,” she trusted the silence to carry her words. Into the awkward quiet, she heard the bracelet click around her wrist, securing the metal close to her skin.

Only then, Zack seemed fit to speak again. “I am sorry, I—I mean, I apologize,” he nodded, face reddening at a quick pace. With anxious steps, he marched to the main door and Belle followed behind.

Suddenly, the anticipation caught up to her again, and all the bubbling excitement she had pushed aside came running like a river, engulfing her body in its current.

_She was about to enter the Werewolf Den. She could barely believe it._

Resorting to her not-so-calming deep breaths, Belle tried to glue her pieces together, composing the next best thing to _calm_ she could fake.

She eventually found a soothing distraction in watching Zack do his work.

While her eyes followed his every action, she realized how valuable the occasion truly was. As self-indulgent as it all had started, Belle was soberly aware that she still had important work to do; an unpassable obligation, within her selfish recreation.

And _that_ was an opportunity she didn’t have to luxury to ignore — the chance to understand how the Park secured one of its controversial creatures.

She rolled her shoulders and sharpened her attention. Suddenly, the anxiety was muffled by curiosity.

The entrance was, as expected, awfully fortified — even more so than the giant gates to the Witches District. It was fitting, Belle decided, that it would be like this. For while the witches were secured inside huge glass domes and _incomprehensible_ magic barriers, the werewolf was held like a prisoner.

No magic nor elegancy, only solid bars and too much silver. Faced with that, it became harder to pretend Ruby was a _resident._

One in front of the other, two huge doors controlled the access with two levels; an outer door, and an inner door. A small corridor in between them served as a buffer space, a line of defense. Beside each door, bolted to the thicker silver bars, was an electronic panel, equipped with a numeric pad and a card scanner.

_So eerily, terribly similar to a prison._

She watched, increasingly revolted, as Zack pulled a card from his shirt pocket, which Belle recognized to be different from his ID. In another notably paranoid measure, a thin metal line connected the cark to Zack’s uniform. It was colored in deep black and on its center, printed in gold, was the word “wolf”.

With a meticulous swipe, the first scanner lit up its green lights, opening the first door.

The sound of it was almost _ominous_. The low noise of massive metal bolts filled Belle’s ears, as they rose out from the deep holes in the ground. Steel clanked against steel and the thick hinges creaked, pulling the door open.

Belle stepped in at Zack’s command, waiting in place as the first door slowly pushed itself shut again.

Too excited to turn around, Belle stared wide-eyed into the Den, only listening to the sound of the keys beings pressed to open the final door. The red light on the panel turned green and the screen flashed the word “guest”, before releasing the command.

Finally, the sounds faded into background noise and the door was open.

Belle breathed in deeply, as nothing more stood in her way. No bars, no doors — the Den shone in brighter colors, wide open and inviting.

She took her first step inside, trading metal for grass. She felt her feet sink in slightly on the softer surface and immediately a smile took hold of her face.

She looked up to her surroundings, scanning every new piece of nature she wasn’t able to see from the outside. Somehow, it all appeared so much bigger and greener. It was as if once the bars had cleared from her sight, Belle could see more life.

Then there she was. Just feet away, more tense than Belle had ever seen her before, Ruby stood, unmoving.

The same was true for her, Belle noticed. Without the bars in between them, Ruby was somehow more stunning — even in all her stiffness.

Belle could see it clearer and clearer each step she took, the rigidity that held the girl in place. Taut shoulders and feet prepared to run, Ruby was as nervous as Belle.

“Relax!” Belle beamed what she hoped was a comforting smile. At each step, Ruby only seemed to shrink, tenser. “Nothing will happen”

Belle slowed to a stop. Not too close, not too far. Hopefully, it was how Ruby preferred to be.

The decision was wise. Once Belle stood in place, Ruby allowed herself to breathe again. A long exhale drew air from her lungs and relaxed her chest, but the stubborn shoulders remained locked.

“Somehow,” Ruby gasped, “not having bars in between us makes it feel so…” she waited for the word, and Belle dared.

“Real?”

“Reckless,” Ruby cracked an anxious smile.

Belle shrugged, using the opening to take another step forward. She could see Ruby fighting the instinct to step back again. She smiled at effort. “I guess this is the kind of recklessness that I condone; one that feels real. I’ve always been too safe, anyway,” she said, pleased to turn Ruby’s frown into a chuckle, “Always too right, too obedient. That is a disruption I can appreciate”

Ruby shook her head, “You’re insane”

“I don’t know,” Belle offered, coming to a stop one more time. “I honestly think remaining outside would be considered insane,” she cast a glance beyond the bars, towards the green hill she once sat as an unwanted spectator — then, she looked back to where she stood, _inside._ “Don’t you think so?”

Belle’s hopeful smile was met with rigid silence. Green eyes watched her tiniest moves, and a puffed out chest held a hundred breaths. Ruby looked like she was about to faint — or burst.

“I seriously need you to relax, Ruby,” Belle asked. Ruby’s anxiety was overflowing, bordering contagious. Belle had just conquered her own nerves; she did not want to face that battle again.

“I can’t!” Ruby breathed out, balling her hands into fists by her sides, “I—The last person that walked in didn’t exactly walked out and—”

Belle took one more step, enough to silence Ruby’s restless words. “Don’t worry about something like that, okay? I’m not him,” Ruby trembled as another suppressed breath left her chest. Another step closer, Belle continued, her voice softer, quieter, “You’re not who you were then. This is another time. A _different_ time. And it’s brand new”

Ruby’s shoulders finally fell, pulling her head down. She stared at the ground, her voice too shy to speak above a whisper. “It’s still hard,” she sighed, and Belle saw most of her tension drain from her muscles, disappearing into the air. _Most of it,_ “This is not something I can so easily forget”

Belle fought the urge to reach a comforting hand. She had sworn to behave. Instead, she mirrored Ruby’s soft tone, “You don’t have to forget it. I wouldn’t ask that of you. Just—be _here,_ in the present. Look at me,” she asked, and Ruby complied, lifting her eyes up to meet Belle’s. “See? Safe and sound”

“You’re _impossible_ , you know that?” Ruby gave her a smile and Belle happily took it. It was tired and reluctant, but it was a smile.

“I’m a journalist. It’s a talent,” she joked, earning an amused chuckle in return.

_That was a good sign._

That was the best she could have hoped from Ruby, a simple smile and an honest laugh. That, coming from someone who just seconds ago was hardened in tension, was a satisfying response. It was enough. For the day, at least, Belle wouldn’t ask much more.

Or maybe, just a _little_ bit more.

She took a deep breath, still holding Ruby’s heavy gaze, and offered her palm.

“Let us do this properly, now, without a stupid cage in the way,” Belle beamed, holding her hand higher up in the space between then — no bars to be wary of.

For a second, Ruby just stared at it, cautious and quiet.

“I’m Belle. Nice to meet you,”

Belle turned her palm up, inviting and open, and she watched as Ruby struggled within herself, pushing fear and doubt away, until taut lips curved into a smile.

She awkwardly wiped her palms down the side of her jeans, before reaching to take Belle’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, Belle. I’m Ruby”

The touch was hesitant at first — nervous, shaking and weak. Slowly, then, as Ruby puffed out her nerves, she held her firmer. Long fingers curled around Belle’s hand, embracing her skin with surprising warmth.

Even surrounded by the gentle blowing of the summer breeze, Belle felt a comforting wave washing over her, at the sensation. 

“Are you that warm all the time?” Belle mocked her own amazement, glancing down at Ruby’s hand as if she had just found a rare gem.

“I don’t know,” Ruby giggled at Belle’s exaggeration, “Are you that cold all the time?”

“I’m cold?” Careful not to have the silver bracelet touching the pale fingers, Belle rested another hand on theirs, feeling on her own skin.

“I’m kidding,” Ruby shook her head, “You’re normal-cold. Human-cold”

“That’s boring,” Belle protested, still holding tightly to Ruby’s hand.

A comfortable silence encircled them, enlacing them with a growing sense of familiarity.

_This was so nice._

_This was so much more than what Belle had hoped for._

“Can I, uh…” Ruby’s voice broke through her thoughts, shy and shaking, “May I… I—I mean—, can I hug you?”

Belle’s mind stopped thinking in words. She stood and blinked, mute.

“I—I mean, it’s okay if you’re weirded out!” Ruby immediately started apologizing, tearing her hand from Belle’s and holding it firmly against her stomach, “Of course you are, right? I’m sorry! I just thought—It’s that I haven’t—Fuck, no. I’m sorry. Forget about it, it’s cool—”

Belle’s body shook in an explosive impulse, like a punch crashing down her own traitorous mind.

Her voice, cracked and raw, fought to overpower Ruby’s, “Of course you can!” She realized she had screamed her response when Ruby stopped abruptly, eyes widening in surprise. “Of course you can,” Belle repeated softly, clearing her throat. “I’m sorry, I blanked out for a moment,” her laugh was a nervous mess.

 _They were painfully awkward disasters, the two._ They matched, at least.

“Oh, okay…” Ruby breathed out, and suddenly all of her fear turned upside down, drawing a perfect wide smile on her face. Still nervous, but perfect.

Carefully, Ruby inched closer, until she was standing in Belle’s personal space. With the same trembling uncertainty, she lifted her arms around Belle, palms pressed gently against her back, slowly pulling her closer.

Belle didn’t think at all, then. She hugged Ruby’s waist, sliding her hands to her back and resting her chin on the girl’s shoulder.

She felt Ruby’s breath, even warmer than her skin, blowing, anxious and quick, against her neck. She felt the temperature rising, slipping through her clothes. She smelled rocks dipped sunlight and dark wood. She _heard_ as Ruby’s gasp escaped her lips.

And she felt as all the tension finally melted away, flowing down her body until it dove into the earth, forgotten.

Ruby hugged her tighter, gently, attentive to her strength — just enough cover any space left, so not even the wind passed through them.

Belle had no reservations about her own strength. She held Ruby tighter and tighter, and she wished she could take away with her all that weighted the girl’s bones, all that lingered beneath her skin, all that lurked in her shadows — she wanted to take them all away, with this one single hug.

But Belle was merely human. And that was only the first day.

She could wait. She would try again, until she finally succeeded.

Ruby’s sharp inhale shuttered Belle’s silence, cutting thought her comfortable haze like cold water.

_The silver bracelet._

She ripped herself away from Ruby faster than she could think, her hands hiding behind her back, beyond Ruby’s reach.

“I’m so sorry!” Belle gasped, face twisted in worry, “Gods, I’m so sorry! I _burned_ you!”

Ruby tried to hide her pain behind a smile. It was surprisingly convincing. Worryingly so, like the pain hadn’t bothered her; hadn’t reached beyond her skin.

She held up one hand, while the other reached for her back, stroking the burnt skin as mindlessly as someone would wave off a fly. “Don’t worry,” Ruby told her, “It’s okay. I’m very used to it”

“I’m _so sorry_ ,” Belle insisted, blushing furiously in a gut-wrenching muddle of shame and regret. It swirled in her belly like acid, like a sickness. She wanted to throw up. “I’m so sorry!”

Ruby must have seen the color leave Belle’s face, fading from pink to green, to blue, to a ghostly white as Belle just _wished she was dead —_ “Hey, hey,” Ruby reached to touch Belle’s shoulders, finally freed of any restraint, holding her still. Holding her _up_ , almost. “Hey, now _you_ calm down. I’m okay. See? Safe and sound”

Belle’s energy released the pressure from her chest, pushing the air out in a strangled, crooked, miserable laugh. She could not even manage to be annoyed.

“I’m tough, see?” Ruby rubbed her shoulders, and Belle felt her warmth sink into her flesh, calming her body.

“Yeah,” Belle puffed a disbelieving sound, “ _So tough_ ”

Ruby bit her lips and Belle wasn’t sure if it was to keep a smile or an insult in. She would be pleased with both, at this point.

“So,” Ruby breathed out, pulling her hands from Belle. “I should show you around, right? Like a good host.” The white canines adorned the wide smile that followed.

“It would only be appropriate,” Belle nodded, adding to her humor.

Ruby smiled, ducking her head away when she failed to hide the blushing cheeks.

Belle considered that another victory. She would take it. After all the mess, _she needed to._

She let her chuckle vibrate low in her throat and trusted Ruby would hear it even then. With a dramatic bow, she motioned to the great open field in the distance, “Lead the way”

And Ruby gladly did.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the feedback! They keep the inspiration alive.   
> And sorry for taking so long with the update -- inspiration is a millennial and it craves death.  
> I hope you like it!

“Are you ready to leave? It’s been three months”

Belle rolled onto her side, shifting her weight on the bed until her hand supported her head. She stared at the nothingness with an invisible smile engraved in the memory of her lips.

“No, not really,” she sighed, as her eyes moved up to the ceiling in thought. “I still have work to do”

Mary Margaret’s voice sounded palpably amused. “You do know you can write the piece _here_ , right?” There was a smirk hiding underneath her voice, but Belle didn’t have the energy to address its mocking tone. “The field research is only the first step,” she clarified, and Belle held back another sigh.

“Yeah, but…” Her eyes searched the dark corner of her room, imagining green colors in the empty space. “I want to write it here. There’s no need to go back now, sit at a desk all day, trying to remember all the details, when I can just stay here and _check_ on them whenever I want,” she bit down a sly smile. Even to her own ears, her excuse sounded weak.

She wondered if Mary Margaret would ever be kind enough to indulge her spy fantasies and to pretend to _believe_ her.

Belle wasn’t sure she would believe herself, at that point. Lying had never been her strongest suit and that included white lies for the sake of her personal dignity. She _knew_ she sounded silly, but the smile, undying and persistent on her face, overpowered any shame.

Finally, Mary Margaret grew tired of the suggestive silence. It had said too much, in that long second. “You’ll have to come back eventually, Belle”

Belle rolled her eyes, but the smile remained, undefeated. “I know that,” she pushed her hair away from her face, before returning her palm to her red cheeks. “But my work isn’t over. To leave prematurely would risk the immersion aspect of—”

Mary Margaret’s annoyed groan trampled her response. “Don’t even _start_ it! What a terrible excuse, French” her voice concealed a smile, and it only caused Belle’s cheeks to burn hotter. 

She should have known Mary would find it entertaining, in almost sadistic fashion. She had always been able to read beyond Belle’s surface — not that it was any hard, spotting her childish lies. Still, somehow, Belle insisted on trying each time.

“I know what this is about.” There was a pause in Mary Margaret’s voice, and Belle braced for what was to come.

“What—,” Belle breathed out, her body pushing itself off the bed in a jump. Fight or flight, she wasn’t sure. “This is not about her!”

A deep, ominous chuckle was her response. It lasted for barely a second, but it felt like an eternity of humiliation to Belle. “Now you just _admitted_ it,” Mary Margaret cackled through the phone, leaving Belle to hear the echo of her laughter bounce off the empty office walls on the other end.

_Thank Gods_ Mary Margaret was alone; Belle wouldn’t bear to have that conversation with anyone else around. That was a kind of embarrassment only Mary was allowed to witness.

“Fine” Mary breathed out a recomposing sigh, “I won’t push you on this. You know what you are doing, I’m sure. And you are lucky _I_ am the boss here. If it were up to Killian, you would be here after the first week”

Belle’s lungs pushed out a groan before she could stop it. It had become the natural reaction to his name, like a gag reflex. “Don’t remind me,” she felt her head weight down on her hands. The mere mention of Killian drained of her life energy. Dark magic, of the evilest kind.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The silent joke at Killian’s expense hung in the emptiness for a while, before Mary’s tone turned serious. “But…” Another deep sigh resumed her formal voice. “I insist that you be careful,” she said, “Do your job, like I know you can but…” Another long second swayed between them. “Don’t… Don’t try to fix her”

Belle’s fingers pressed harder on the edges of her phone, and her throat fought to keep her words down. Strangled, they were a whisper, “I don’t…”

“You have a weakness for damaged people, Belle,”

Mary Margaret argued, her tone laced with kindness and concern, but still excruciating to Belle’s ears. She didn’t what to hear it.

“And it jut got you hurt in the past,” Belle tried to reply, but Mary Margaret seemed to have predicted her objection. “ _I know_ ” she sighed, “I work with a living proof, it’s charming, but it smells like rum; It’s sitting in the other room and it won’t shut up about you. But, now…” she breathed in, and Belle wondered if that was as tiring for Mary Margaret to say as it was for Belle to hear. “Now, it has claws and fangs, and it’s even more unstable than the last. Breaking your heart is not the worst it can do—”

“Mary,” Belle’s patience ran dry. “I am a grown woman. I make my own decisions. I know how to survive in this world,” she grinded her teeth to keep her words in. Any anger now would be misplaced — she knew Mary wanted to help. She inhaled, asking her body for clarity. “So, please, no dating advice. Not from my boss”

Another silent second, but Mary Margaret didn’t sound hurt.

She didn’t wait long to return to her lighter energy. A sigh, as defeated as it was resigned. “I know. Sorry,” she mumbled, “I just worry!” She tried, her voice getting higher with frustration. “You know? I’m _dying_ to visit there. I want to meet this one, see her with my own eyes. Maybe then I would understand why you’re so invested”

Mary’s whining tone teased Belle’s lips into a smile. Oh, she loved the littles victories.

Coloring the fantasy in her mind, she pictured the day Mary would meet Ruby, sometime in a shapeless future.  The image was bright and happy, and suddenly Belle wished for the day to come.

“You would like her,” she admitted — and hoped it would be true.

***

She slowed the car to a stop at the tall gates.

Glancing at her reflection on the rear-view mirror, she straightened the card pinned to her shirt, as she waited for first guard to approach.

Ed’s face came into view by her window, blocking the sun with his curly red hair. He tapped on the glass and Belle rolled the window down, reaching for the paper bag resting on the passenger seat.

“Good morning, Ed” she greeted the man with a smile. Cleared from their initial stiffness, she handed him the sprinkles donuts she had promised them the day before.

A grateful smile colored the guard’s expression, as he nodded another greeting. “Good morning, Belle,” he took the bag from Belle and passed it over to the next guard.

A second went by, and the gate remained closed. Belle cast a curious glance forward, examining the blocked entrance. Usually their interactions were short and direct, the gates would swing open for her before she even stopped her car.

She frowned, “Is something wrong?”

Ed’s lips were pressed in a thing line, so the ginger mustache covered his mouth. “Not exactly,” he began, bringing a hand to rest on top of the car, leaning his weight forward. “Mister Gold called,” he sighed what seemed like an apology, and Belle’s confusion grew. “He asked that you visit his office, before starting your daily interviews”

Belle blinked away, staring at the space above the steering wheel, until the words sank into her mind. Her confusion started to fade, giving way to uneasiness.

Suddenly, her frown was one of concern.

She no longer talked to the guard, as she sighed, “Okay. Thank you”

***

Belle hadn’t visited the Director’s office since her second day.

She remembered their talk — a few words sounded louder than others, but her memory didn’t fail her. They had talked about Ruby.

Gold had been comforting and helpful, guiding a curious and frustrated journalist around the many traps set out by the lonely werewolf. Or so it had seemed.

Now, after so many weeks, Ruby had lowered her weapons and surrendered her stubborn fight. She had allowed Belle in her Habitat, in her _home_. They had held hands, hugged, shared laughs and silly jokes.

Belle now knew of the true sadness lying within Ruby, as she knew of her tragedy and her longings. Belle knew a little bit more about Ruby every day.

She was no longer The Werewolf, That Girl, The Wolf. She was herself, stripped of insipid names, stripped of any stained fame. She was _Ruby_. And Belle would like to believe she knew Ruby.

Mister Gold, however, would most likely disagree.

***

The scent of old leather and dust engulfed her senses, as Belle opened the golden door to his office.

The sunlight was abandoned behind her, as she stepped into the soft shadows of warm lights scattered on the walls. Darker colors and smaller spaces, Gold’s Office was truly a pocket universe, vibrating with mystery.

Belle had yet to name all the creatures spread inside glass cases and numbered shelves. No longer a mesmerizing museum, but a cryptic cemetery. Every time she entered the place, she felt like more and more corpses crowded the walls, the tables, the ceiling — _everywhere._

She blew a calming breath from her lips, finding a clear spot on the soft carpet to wait for Gold.

She tried to ignore the goosebumps that crawled up her arms and down her neck, as she tried her best not to look around. She didn’t want to spot a familiar scale, a wing, a claw, a skull, an eyeball, a limb… They were decorations now, but they once had names. They all did.

Belle bit her lips, cursing her weak will, when her eyes landed on the gray wolf skin hanging on the wall. She wondered what had been that wolf’s name.

She glanced at a giant skull attached to a wooden frame on the opposite wall. A normal hunter would have a dear’s head as a price; Gold had a dragon’s hollowed bones. Its long horns as sharp as knives, aimed straight ahead, ready to pierce the nothingness.

And, again, Belle wondered about its name. She wondered how many battles it fought, how many it won, and which was its last. She wondered if that dragon had belonged to a family, and she wondered if it had been robbed of it or simply found without it. If it had been killed or if it had lived peacefully until its last day.

Wonder was, perhaps, the dominating feeling swirling inside her. But it twisted lower in her stomach, beside fear and _disgust._

It was entirely different from the first time she had experienced it. It was darker and it sulked in her, _condemning_ instead of admiring; _cursing_ instead of praising. Despising instead of adoring.

All of her feelings had been flipped upside down and she knew, clearer than anything: she wasn’t supposed to indulge them. Not now.

She heard Gold’s approach and quickly kicked her thoughts away, masking her face with the best neutrality she could manage.

The man came into view, walking out of his private room and into the office.

“Miss French, good morning. Thank you for coming,” he welcomed Belle with a smile. Leaning on his cane, he eased his weight onto the tall chair behind his desk.

“Good morning, Mister Gold,” she returned the gesture, walking on slow feet until she stood in front of him. She was aware of the hands she held tightly together, fingers clasped like a shield in front of her belly, but she didn’t feel comfortable enough to assume another posture. She breathed out, working on her professional front, “Is there a problem?”

Her tone was soft. Inquiring, but passive. And it seemed to please Mister Gold.

With another tight smile, he pushed short piles of paper to the sides, clearing the desk. “No,” he rested his elbows on the desk, “Not a problem. Rather, a word of advice,” he said, and Belle felt her hands press tighter against her body. A second echoed and Belle offered him no response. With a sigh, Gold looked down before continuing. “I was alerted by the Werewolf’s Caretaker that you entered her habitat”

_And so her suspicions were correct._

Carefully, she nodded, pursing her lips in a line. “I did,” she cleared her throat, under Gold’s observant watch, “I was guaranteed I wasn’t breaking any rules. My entrance was allowed.” She explained, feeling as her previous nervousness turned her voice serious, “And we were careful,” she added, “I wore the silver bracelet, as required”

Gold exhaled out of his nose, a wheezing sound that persisted in his words. “I am aware, I am aware,” his nod was rigid, and Belle noticed the golden ring he rolled around his finger as he spoke, “This isn’t a matter of _your_ precautions, but, instead, of her… powers.” He paused, and before Belle could articulate her argument, Gold continued, “It seems appropriate to inform you now, that you took such a step in trusting her, that a terrible incident took place inside the area, involving her last Caretaker, nonetheless—”

“An _accident,_ I believe you mean,” Belle arched her eyebrows at the inflexion, “An incident suggests a level of normalcy, while an accident removes _intention_ from the problem,” she finished with a nod.

Gold’s stare lingered for a second too long. “Of course,” the corner of his lips twitched upwards.

“I was informed of such a thing, yes,” Belle continued, assembly the burning energy left behind by her nerves. “I know what happened, in detail. She has told me, herself. And I must say none of it scared me out of trusting her, Mister Gold,” she watched as his smile lost vigor, and curved down. His hand now hovered around his ring, unmoving. “I believe it was truly an accident, beyond her control. As I believe she isn’t capable of such an act, in her most sane mind.” Belle finished, planting the balls of her feet in the carpet.

Again, the silence dared to stretch for a little too long before Gold spoke again. “Need I remind you, Miss French, that her kind is not known for their _sanity_ ,” the word sounded sharp and crooked in his voice, metal scratching metal, “Werewolves are driven by primal desires. Killing, amongst them”

Belle opened her mouth to protest, but at Gold’s request for patience, she waited. The denial was loaded and ready, sitting on her tongue. It felt bitter and acid, yet Gold didn’t seem to mind.

“I know you want to trust her,” he offered a gentle tone, nodding what looked like an empathetic gesture, “Seeing as you had time to know the more human side of her, that is something I comprehend,” his pause didn’t allow Belle any opportunity. When his voice returned, it was forged with steel. “However, it’s my obligation to remind you that that is only _half_ of her nature. The other half, which I’m confident you have yet to meet, is a beast. And you can’t trust them, for they don’t care about you”

Belle’s anger bubbled up her throat, and it took all of her might to keep her bones from leaping forward and her hands from curling into fists. This time it was _fight,_ without a doubt.

Her voice was taut as she replied, “With all due respect, Mister Gold, I see beyond her distinctive nature. She’s more than simply a werewolf. She is a person,” Belle swore, “With thoughts and feelings of her own, as valid as any other’s. She has shown me the human side of her is dominant — it defines her, much more than her condition. She is a person, regardless of what _kind_ or _creature_ she is”

Gold’s stare wanted to burn at her skin, but Belle wouldn’t allow it. She rolled back her shoulders and endured it, unflinching, until Gold had to resort to more than his silence.

Another breath escaped loudly through his nose. “That is a dangerous way to approach this relation, Miss French,” Gold argued, his face breaking into a frown of what seemed like concern. For a human, his expressions failed to be human-like, Belle decided. “Her _own Caretaker,_ the man she most trusted and cared about in this world, was nothing but _meat_ to her”

Belle’s nails dug into her palms, teeth biting the inside of her mouth.

For a human, there was nothing human in him at all. Not in the way he treated Ruby. He might as well have been talking about a rabid dog.

Confronted by her silence, Gold insisted, “Why do you think you will be any different?”

Belle exhaled her rage and inhaled what little calm she could find. “She is different. She regrets it. She was deeply traumatized by it. The accident scarred her more than it did anyone else” Belle explained, feeling as a new power flowed through her.

She knew she told the truth. For it _was_ the absolute truth. Ruby had been scarred, to her very bones, to her core. The ripples of that day still crashed against her, every morning and every night.

She had been miserable for it. She had yet to recover. All about her screamed, beyond doubt: _she had yet to recover._ That she was wounded, still.

Peter had been killed, but Ruby had barely survived.

She was suffering. And Gold had no right neglect her pain.

Belle’s lungs burned — with hurt or anger, she wasn’t sure. She finished, “If Ruby trusts herself enough to allow me in, to talk and interact with me like a _person_ , it is not up to anyone to deny her that”

Gold’s smile was crooked and his jaw as set. The shadows cast by his long hair framed his face with menace. He stared at his desk. “You may think of her like a person, but she is not”

Belle stepped forward, but Gold was deaf to her protests.

“She is a creature,” he spat, and another breath tried to return serenity to his voice. “She lives here, in a habitat projected for her kind. Another person takes care of her, and many more come here to marvel at her. They take pictures, interact, and move on. _They_ are people. She is another thing — essentially different. _A sample of a fantastical world_ , if you will. She has amazing abilities that surpass any human’s, _that_ is why she’s here,” his voice eased into a tight whisper and Belle noticed how the veins in his neck bulged under his collar. Anger, much like hers. “She’s here because she doesn’t belong to a human world. Not because of her heart, or how _nice_ she is, or how _damaged_ she is. It’s because she’s a werewolf, and that won’t change”

The echo of strangled anger oscillated between the walls. The air turned thicker and the shadows, darker. Belle felt like the space around her tried to shrink and suffocate her, but, once again, she would fight it. If he had anger, so did she.

White knuckles released the pressure around her wrists, and she let her hands fall to her sides. “You have the right to believe that.” Her voice was stone, “As have I, to think that she’s much more than that,” Each pause was an eternity, as Belle struggled for calm. She would not raise her voice. “I understand that you run this place with your beliefs and you worry about the wellbeing of your guests, but, as I stated, my actions weren’t prohibited. And as long as it’s in my possibilities, I’ll continue to visit her”

Without leaving any room for his own brand of silence, Belle turned on her heels to leave. The short walk to the door felt like an unending journey on a broken bridge, rushed and anxious, before she met with disaster.

But before her hand could reach for the door, Gold’s tired voice called for her.

“Miss French, please,” he pleaded and Belle gave in to the weakness hiding in the exhaustion. His anger was transformed.

Slowly, she turned just enough to look back at him.

With an apologetic shrug, Gold added, “I won’t stop you. I respect, — in fact, I wholeheartedly _believe_ in the work you’re doing here. We just happen to have clashing perspectives on the world, but that… there is no need for animosity. I offer, simply, a warning”

Belle huffed out a quiet protest. She opposed his words, before he could even utter them.

Reading the lines on her face, Gold’s eyes cut through the distance and locked onto Belle’s, a new light shining in his colors. “Don’t get carried away by emotions. Don’t listen to her sad stories and, above all, don’t _blindly_ trust that her nature won’t put you at risk. That was the young Smith’s mistake”

Belle swallowed down her reply. She wouldn’t waste more of her time with fruitless, infuriating disagreement. It wasn’t the place — it wasn’t a fight she could win. He had created the very illusion of separation that now Belle so strongly tried to deny. She had no chance at changing his mind. Not now. Not in his glorified cemetery.

“Once you step into that cage, the responsibility is all yours,” Gold continued, his voice gaining volume as his chest filled and puffed with air. His exhaustion disappearing, “I can only advise you from here”

Belle’s nod was anything but compliant. The muscles in her neck felt stiff and hard. “I am very aware, Mister Gold”

And within the second, she was gone.

Through the yellow door, away from the shadows and into the sunlight, her anger still burned.

***

As she walked down the familiar path to the Den, Belle tried her hardest to shake the irritation from her skin. It clung to her like sweat and she felt its itching down to her bones.

_She hated it._ She hated when people tried to cloak their arrogance in advice; their disgust with worry; their fears with truths.

They weren’t as they tried to be. Gold’s warning had felt more like a threat, and Mary Margaret’s concern was closer to condescension **.** They didn’t truly care about Belle’s efforts — about Ruby’s rights. They could only see the sharp divide between them, marking Belle and Ruby in horribly distinct colors — guest and creature. Normal and freak.

_They weren’t true._ They would accomplish nothing with their attempts, but feed more to Belle’s anger. They were dubious — cowardly insincere. Their intentions, far detached from _caring_ and _concern._

What they really feared was that Belle could treat Ruby as any other person. They dreaded the thought that she could see beyond the silver bars and the bold letters on a board. They were mortified — paralyzed in horror that the distinction they tried so hard to maintain could be so easily overlooked.

And it angered her.

For Gold, to dare and deny Ruby the right to be treated as a person, entitled to her own choices, to her own way to live the life he had imposed on her. It was infuriating, it was oppressive, it was unjust. She expected more from the man so praised for his charitable work.

Where were the benevolence and the kindness that preceded his name? What had birthed the fame of this kindness and humanity, when he showed himself to be as prejudiced as someone like _Killian?_

Mary Margaret was the same. Admittedly, Belle could understand her concern better than Gold’s. They were friends, before they were ever coworkers — before Mary Margaret even became her boss. She had always had Belle’s wellbeing in mind, as a priority; never a job was more important — or its reward more valuable — than Belle’s safety and comfort.

She _knew_ where Mary Margaret was coming from, but, still… Her anger remained.

The ignorance was the same. They treated Ruby differently and they weren’t able to hide it.

It became harder and harder to mask her frustration, as her feet brought her closer to Ruby’s habitat. Regardless, she demanded her mind to focus on something else. Ruby didn’t have to worry about it.

Because if Belle now burned with anger, Ruby had already endured and tamed a rage worse than she could ever imagine. Belle was an observer, while Ruby had been living it, through all of her years. Belle was a newcomer to this reality and its injustices, while, to Ruby, they were the norm, far more dismissing of her rebellions.

At least Belle had a way of marching into Gold’s office and arguing for her cause. Ruby would never even have that. She doubted Ruby had even had a chance to confront Gold face to face.

Belle concealed her anger. It would mean nothing to Ruby’s, it would _do nothing_ to Ruby’s.

Belle didn’t have the right to impose on her, not when Ruby had finally learned how to cope with her own anger — how to live, despite it. So Belle hid it deep inside, for a later time.

For now, she would meet with Ruby and all would be numbed in comparison.

***

“There you are,” the soft voice met her, as soon as Belle walked through the tall arch. With slow steps, Ruby walked closer to the bars, meeting Belle halfway. “I was worried you were freaked out by my place.” Ruby flashed her a wide grin, and quickly everything else dissolved from Belle’s mind.

What a power that girl had, of making the brightest things seem dim before her. And what a _strange_ power it was, for someone who just a week before was anything but lively. Healing was a mysterious force, indeed.

Belle tried to mirror Ruby’s smile, “Please,” she waved off with a mocking tone, “I’ve seen how the dwarves sleep after a party. A few tossed t-shirts aren’t enough to scare me away”

Ruby giggled, and a light blush seemed to take hold of the pale cheeks. “I’m glad,” she rubbed at the back of her neck, that same nervous tick carved in Belle’s mind. “I hadn’t really had the chance to clean it all up, before you… well, _burst_ in here, yesterday.” She breathed out a laugh, as she looked to Belle’s silly mask of offense. A shrug, and it was all forgiven. “But now I think it’s finally presentable”

Belle blinked. A moment went by, before the realization settled in. “Oh,” she arched an eyebrow and Ruby’s blush only seemed to darken. “Does that mean I’m invited in again?”

Ruby bit down another grin, eyes lowering to the bag hanging from Belle’s shoulder. “It depends on what you brought me there”

Belle’s stepped back in surprise. _Stupid sharp senses!_

She wanted to surprise Ruby with the offer — a not-so-innocent gift that had been quickly put aside by more urgent matters — but it now was clear to her how foolish the idea had been.

Her eyes examined her bag, while her hands tried to shield it from Ruby’s view. “Why do you think I brought this for you?” Her deceiving was as convincing as her frown, so she deduced from Ruby’s scoff.

“Ariel isn’t a big fan of sugary food,” Ruby shrugged, a cocky smile perfectly in place.

“This isn’t _that_ sugary!” Belle pouted, “It’s healthy balanced…”

“I can _smell_ it” Ruby arched a single eyebrow. It was as defying as Belle could never really be, in a single gesture. “And I know healthy food smells worse than that”

Belle’s dramatic gasp earned another laugh. “Fine,” she huffed, reaching for the bag she had tried to conceal.

From its confines, she retrieved a plastic cup. The cold liquid inside condensed drops on its surface, making it harder to grip. Not trusting her own hands to hold it a moment longer, she pushed it in between the bars, until it was safe for Ruby to grab it.

“Here, tea. Since summer is surprisingly hotter there, I made it _iced_. And…” she prepared with dramatic anticipation, repeating the maneuver to take the last thing from her bag, a styrofoam container, heavy and wide. “ _Pancakes,”_ she curved the same smile Ruby had flashed her before, as smug and teasing as she could manage. “I had a feeling you would like it”

One more time, Belle reached through the bars and handed the box off to Ruby.

With curious eyes that mixed confusion a realization, the girl took the last offer, balancing the two items in hands with a telling long silence.

A second ticked, and Ruby bit the inside of her lips in a half-annoyed smirk. When green eyes rose again to meet Belle’s, her annoyance turned to humor. “Are you _trying to prove something?”_ She angled her head to the side, and Belle took it as a challenge.

Puffing out her chest, she mocked her best impression of innocence. “I don’t know what you are talking about”

Ruby’s following groan was more of a laugh of defeat than anything. “Okay, okay,” she breathed, dropping her shoulders to their weight. Belle had won. “I was wrong,” she seemed to force the words out of her mouth, but the humor beneath it only made them sounder sweeter to Belle’s ears. One of the best victories so far, she would say. “Are you happy now?”

Her nod was pompous and proud. “I’m _very_ pleased, thank you”

Ruby let out a final, amused laugh, before tilting her head towards the entrance.

That was all the invitation Belle needed.

***

They sat on the softest patch of grass under the largest oak tree, in the warmest shade.

The thick branches extended and spread over many feet, leaves full and rich, casting a gentle shadow down on the ground. The sunshine escaped in between the thinnest branches, spotting the ground with yellow patches of light. It was the perfect place for a picnic.

The green hill was nothing to that tree. Nothing to the grass under Belle’s bare feet. Nothing to the gentle shade protecting them from the heat. The green hill, safely forgotten outside the silver bars, was nothing to that little piece of nature.

Belle had lost track of time, ever since she entered the Den.

Ruby had guided her to her favorite spot to sit and think, and Belle had gladly followed behind, listening carefully to every story Ruby remembered to tell her.

Ruby told her about the times Peter had dared her to climb to the tallest branch, and she giggled at the memory of her fright, suddenly aware of her fear of heights. She told Belle about the time her wolf had ran head first into the hardest trunk in her forest, and how the headache lasted for a full day.

Finally, she explained that now she reserved that place for her naps. She proudly tapped the grass, as she sat down, leaning against the trunk. She told Belle it was the softest place she had found — a bed far better than the one in her room.

And so they sat and shared stories.

The plastic cup now empty and the pancakes devoured, they talked about whatever came to mind — the first thought triggered by the quickest mention was worthy of a show, and so they spent their time. _Talking._

No pen, no notebook, no titles and no deadlines. They talked, until the shadows of the oak grew longer.

“So,” Belle continued her thought, gesturing excitedly all around, “I didn’t really understand I wanted to write until I read the crudest, _laziest_ , most tone-deaf book ever.”

She marked the emotion with an annoyed frown, while Ruby laid beside her, turned on her side, head on her hand and her full attention directed at Belle.

And, oh, Belle loved the audience.

“I was so _furious_ ,” she continued, laughing at her own exaggeration, as she noticed Ruby doing the same, “My only thought was _‘This is not how it should happen. This doesn’t make any sense!’”_ Belle sighed at the memory of her young self, maddened beyond reason at the terrible book. “I guess the frustration of it pushed me to pursue it. I wanted to write a better book than _that.”_ She finished with a shy smile, painfully aware of her own voice now.

She tended to talk too much, for too long, adding too many details. Even the best listener could find her a challenge. Therefore, it was a nice surprise to find the green eyes glue to her, smiling and amazed by her silly rant.

She felt her cheeks warm up under Ruby’s quiet, focused gaze. It was only when she spoke into the silence, that Belle’s shyness dissipated.

“See?” Ruby arched her eyebrows, “Good things _do_ come out of bad times, you just have to find them,” she smirked, seeming proud of her prediction and Belle, for once, would not deny the logic.

It finally made sense, now. Belle would never understand how Ruby could find enjoyment in _those_ movies of hers, but maybe a metaphor adapted to a writer’s taste would be easier to relate to. And she was right.

Belle made a note to trust her odd wisdom more often.

“And…” Ruby broke the silence again, “Is this your first big piece?”

Belle shook her head. It was far from being a first time — she was as seasoned in writing as Ruby was fluent in awful filmography.

“No. I’ve written a lot” she nodded at the thought. _A lot_ was still not enough. “Fiction and non-fiction” she added. “I’m a journalist now, but I haven’t given up on fantasy,” Ruby’s devoted attention encouraged her on. “There’s something so fascination about fictional characters tricking us into feeling real feelings — I can’t entirely abandon fiction to write only facts. A little imagination can be wonderful medicine for hard truth, I believe,” she finished, mixing humility and confidence all in one.

Ruby’s eyes shone brighter as they seemed to contemplate Belle’s expression in deep thought.

Belle adjusted her weight on the grass, as if feeling the heavy gaze physically touch her skin. She watched, entranced, as Ruby’s licked her lips before speaking again. “What do you like to write about, when you indulge in fantasy?”

Belle’s lungs felt full. She breathed her answer and it sounded coy. “Romance”

It hung between then. Eventually, Belle broke their gaze, starting down at the fingers that toyed with the blades of grass.

“A romantic, uh?” Ruby replied, and the humor beneath her voice made it safe for Belle breathe again.

“Well,” she shrugged, smiled at the ground, as some of the pressure eased off her chest. “Aren’t we all?”

Ruby blew a shaky scoff at the persistent silence that threatened to set in. “Oh, some aren’t built for that”

Then, slowly, it grew. Below her skin, close to her throat.

A nameless force started pulling and pushing inside her chest, and Belle found the courage to look up again. As she stared at Ruby’s eyes, her voice lost volume. “Are _you_?”

Maybe, Belle thought, she had drained her strange courage from Ruby, for as soon as she asked the question, it was Ruby’s turn to evade her eyes.

She pushed her body slightly up, until her back rested on the trunk. “I… Maybe not,” she curled her lips up, but her smile was transparent. “My kind, I…” Another breath, and she seemed to try a different answer. “ _I_ don’t seem to have the best luck, when it comes to… _romance, so…”_

Ruby let her voice fade into nothing. An evasive nod signaled the end of her answer — conformity or defeat, Belle wasn’t sure which it was, but it was painted on her face. Along with shame.

_Shame?_

The force made itself present again, feeling in Belle’s chest. It wasn’t the anger from before, or the happiness of a day earlier — it was something in between, born of the same sentiment.

Born, perhaps, _for_ the same sentiment.

Belle smiled, decided not to leave Ruby to feel her awful feelings again. She rocked her body to the side, nudging Ruby’s shoulder with hers, until the lines on the pale face turned from timid to curious.

“Have a little hope!” Belle felt oddly confident in herself, as she swore. “Good things from bad, right?”

And as if lifted by magic, Ruby’s frown melted away, clearing the shadows from her face and lighting up the smallest, _shiest smile_ Belle had ever seen adorn her face.

Ruby nodded, holding Belle’s gaze once again. “Right”

And, within the moment, Belle was able to name the strange force demanding more and more room inside her. Nested between frustration and accomplishment, it was bright and strong and growing, consuming her rapidly.

_Hope._


End file.
